The 70th Hunger Games: Annie Cresta's Games
by Jacia
Summary: The 70th Hunger Games, and the aftermath. Annie and Finnick's life together.
1. The Reaping: Annie's POV

_**70**__**th**__** Hunger Games**_

I climbed out of the water, droplets spraying everywhere as I shook myself. Swimming comforted me, but not enough to make me forget what today was – the _reaping_. I desperately wished I couldn't attend. Wished I didn't have to watch another two children sent to their death. District 4 was a Career District, but our lives didn't revolve around training, unlike District 1 and District 2. We occasionally got a victor or two every few years, but more often we held simple, grief-filled funerals for those innocent children condemned to death. The last victor we had had had been crowned five years ago. _Finnick_. Just his name sent my heart racing, made my cheeks glow a bright red. We had met shortly after he had come home from the 67th Games, two years after his win . It had been over 2 years ago, but I could still recall every detail of it perfectly..

_I floated on my back in the warm, salty ocean, loving the feel of the sun beating down on me. I sighed happily, thinking of nothing apart from how content I was. My eyes flickered open when I heard someone coming to the near sand bank. I swam closer to shore, and cowered down so my head was just barely above the water. I felt a prick of anger at someone coming to _my _spot. I had made sure that I picked somewhere deserted, an outlet only I knew of and used. I liked to swim privately – I enjoyed alone time away from my family, and I didn't plan for anyone to ruin that. My spot was set behind a sparse tangle of thick wood and trees, there being no room to sun yourself or tan, only a small ledge and strip of sand to jump into the water from. I positioned myself behind a bush, where my head was hidden but I could still spot whoever came. I felt myself gasp loudly as I caught full view of the figure. _Finnick Odair.

_He had won the Games a couple of years ago, and he had arrived back at District 4 this morning from a few weeks of the 67__th__ Games– all anyone could think about was him, even though he had won two years ago. He was as good looking as everyone had gushed, I thought maybe the TV screen or make-up had improved his appearance – tousled bronze hair, tanned skin, striking green eyes. I was grateful that he didn't seem to hear me, and then realized I had left my clothes only a few feet from him. I felt my cheeks burn a furious red, and hoped desperately that he wouldn't stay long _or _notice me. I began to pray that he wouldn't swim and simply came here to sight see when I heard a low moan. I turned my head back towards him and was shocked to see the tears flowing down his face. He was clutching his head in his hands, and I just watched him as he continued to sob._

_I shrank back when he began to scream – not at me, but to no one. His words were too bold to repeat – vulgar threats aimed at President Snow and the Capitol. My gaze was a mix of fear, worry, and awe. I wished I could comfort him, but he would probably demand I go away and claim I was spying on him. I hadn't met any Victors, but some said they tend to be slightly … off. Lost, pained, and scarred from the horror they've experienced. I didn't know if he was any different. His tears suddenly dried and his shouts cut off as he looked out. My heart pounded when I realized he may have noticed me – but he's not staring at me, he's staring at my clothes. He gets up and pokes them with his feet, and I cringe as he notices my underclothes. "Who's there?" He shouts, to the water. I try my best to keep as silent as I can, closing my eyes and continuing to pray he won't see me and leave now. I felt a sneeze coming on, and held my nose so it wouldn't come out. Please, please, please – I cringe as it turns into a mix of a gurgle, a snort, and the loudest sneeze I've ever heard. _

_His head snaps up and he stares at the bush for a long time before approaching me. I stay where I am, aware that there aren't many escape options. I sneak a peek at him and notice he's still standing still, and then take a deep breath and decide I may as well face him. He may get angry or upset at me, but at least he won't think I'm a coward or creep. I swim slowly to the ledge of my little clearing and tentatively begin to speak as he turns my way. "Are you okay?" I ask, not able to ignore the pure look of agony and pain on his face. I remain in the water, though, just in case he seems upset that I heard him sob. Fresh tears begin to form on his face, and I can't but help comfort him despite the fact I don't know if he holds pure hatred to me or not. I hoist myself up and go near him, patting his shoulder and telling him gently it'll be okay. I'm surprised when he leans his head on mine, the flow of tears making my already soaking hair slightly more, damp. Even though I've just met him, I give him a slight hug. I assume his sadness is about just having to have had mentored and watched two children die. "I'm sorry, the Games must have been… horrible, I can't imagine what mentoring must be like," I allow my fury to show in my face. "President Snow and the Capitol are cruel and disgusting. They care nothing for us, they surely have earned far from a spot in Heaven for all they do." _

_I see a look of surprise on his face, mingling with his tears, and I can understand that I'm probably the first girl whom hasn't gushed and fussed over him, as well as the first person he's heard to openly bash the Capitol. He suddenly slumps to the ground and motions for me to sit down beside him. "He killed my family, murdered them when I wouldn't go into prostitution. The Capitol citizens can't keep their paws off me now that I'm 16." My mouth opened in horror. I had heard of a family being killed accidentally in a boating accident a few days ago, but hadn't wanted to hear whom it had been because I don't take well to tragedies. "I'm so, so, sorry." I murmured, tears filling my own eyes. "I still have Mags, but I'll always miss them.. I-I didn't mean for him to kill them..," I throw my arms around him, full force this time. "It wasn't your fault," I say fiercely. "It will always be the Capitol's fault. They'll get what they deserve some day. Snow will not get away with all this." He seems reassured with my words, and a small smile returns to his face. _

"_Thank you. I- what's your name?" He says curiously, and then looks me up and down. I'm embarrassed when a smirk crosses his face. I pull my hand through my knotty and wet hair, and then put my hands to my side nervously. I jump up when I touch bare skin rather than fabric. I blush furiously when I realize my clothes are still on the ground. I was so engrossed with helping Finnick, that I never realized I was absolutely bare. "Nice outfit," He teased, and I cross my hands over my chest and mumble an embarrassed apology. "So, uh…," Not quite sure what to do, I make casual conversation. "Do you like to swim?" I think of the first thing off the top of my head. "Sure," He says, grinning, and suddenly jumps up. I gasp and laugh when he suddenly launches himself off the ledge and into the water. "C'mon!" He says, grinning. I hesitate then plunge in too, happy that at least the dark water will cover me. We spent the rest of the afternoon splashing, laughing and playing games. I'm startled a few times when I realize I might have made a friend with one of the most famous people in Panem. It approaches dusk and we climb out of the water, still laughing lightly. I quickly gather my clothes and hold them over my body as he leaves. I gasp as he spins around and gives me a quick peck on the lips and winks at me. "I never did learn your name..," He says. "Annie. Annie Cresta." I say breathlessly. As he walks away, I'm surprised by the butterflies in my stomach and my swimming head. Even though I had only known him a few hours, that was the day I realized I loved Finnick Odair. _

I smiled at my fondest memory. At the time, I branded myself idiotic for thinking the two years older Finnick – famous in all ways – would ever feel anything for me, other than that slight fond feeling we had had the first time we met. But our courtship blossomed and moved forward, and I hoped he felt the same way for me I did for him. Our relationship was a secret – no one could know, especially not with Finnick's demand in the Capitol. I felt horrible that Finnick was forced to do such things – but we, I, couldn't stop President Snow. President Snow somehow had found out about us – now he had both Mags and me to hold over Finnick, and Finnick refused to protest if it meant our safety. I wished more than anything that the Capitol would fall. They forced Finnick to mentor two children, all of which whom had died so far, and then put him through delusional Capitol woman that bought his body. He would be mentoring again this year – another year of pure horror for him. Life was cruel … I'd do anything to spare Finnick the brunt of it.

I walked home quickly, passing a few people gathering in the square, early. My home was in a slummy part of District 4 - all the homes were small, falling apart shacks. I opened the door and headed to my room, one of the three rooms of the house, brushed out my hair and threw on a pretty but plain blue dress. I looked in the cracked mirror that leaned against the wall and examined myself. I was pretty, at least Finnick and occasionally my Mother told me so. My eyes were a deep green, my skin strangely porcelain for all the time I spent swimming, and my hair was dark and long, bangs covering a good part of my forehead. I went to exit my home before I realized I needed to tell my Mother where I was going. I loved my Mother – but she wasn't terribly talkative nor right since her baby had died when it was just a few days old.

She had planned for two children, picked a name and set up a space for her, and had been as happy as I'd ever seen her during her pregnancy. My mother's sadness and lack of speech made both of us avoid the house as much as possible – my father worked at sea for months at a time, I explore and swam. I found my mother where I knew she would be, in a small chair in her room. I kissed her on the cheek and told her I was going to the reaping. She surprised me with no remaining emotionless and silent. "Good luck, my Annie darling. Only two more years after this, and you're free." I nodded and went to leave when she handed me something. "Mother, what's this?" I muttered, staring at the beautiful bracelet. It had a lovely sea horse charm on it, but rather than being cold and gray it was glass and filled with sand. A few shells were on it too, small, blunt, ones. "Mother, it's beautiful, thank you." She smiled weakly. "I have a feeling. Something will happen today. I'm just being paranoid, oh, yes, but all the same. It's a token. Give it to female tribute chosen this year." I nod and hear her faintly tell me she loves me. I blow her a kiss and step out of our house, heading for the town square.

When I get there, I see that most everyone has already gather. I go into the section for 16 year olds and nod at a few people I know from my neighborhood, us silently wishing each other luck. I look up at the stage and see Finnick sitting in one of the Victor's chairs. We exchange a second of eye contact before I look away. I'm nervous, but know my few slips out of thousands have little to no chance of being picked. I wince as our Capitol escort's high and fake voice cuts through the silence. She says the normal speech, and then announces the start of picking the tributes. "Girl Tribute first, shall we?" Her neatly manicured hands shove themselves into the glass bowl and she finally picks a slip of paper. She reads it slowly, perkily, and my world begins to spin as the name hits my ears. "_Annie Cresta_!"

I hobble up to the stage, my legs feeling like jelly. I finally reach the stage, and tune all noise out from my ears as my shock registers. The boy tribute is quickly called and we shake hands, me not even seeing who he is. All my fears quickly pile up in my head. _Me_! I could never win! All I can do is swim! I can't wield a trident, a sword, a knife! Finnick! I turn my body slightly so I can see him. I only look at him for a few seconds, but his teeth are gritted and his face is as white as ice. I suppose he's realized it as much as I have. He'll mentor me … then watch me die.


	2. The Reaping: Finnick's POV

I woke up slowly, enjoying the sunlight streaming through my window. My house in the Victor's Village had a perfect view of the water. I watched the lazily moving blue-green waves for a while, sighing contently. District 4 was my true home, not the shallow Capitol. If only I could watch the waves forever, never to enter that retched place again.. Then I remembered what day it was. Reaping Day. My good mood disappeared as soon as it had come. I trudged out of my bed and threw on a fancy shirt and pants. Another year of mentoring the boy tribute, getting attached to both of them, and watching both of them die. I knew I should be more optimistic – District 4 was a Career district, after all - but every child I had mentored had died so far. Some were skilled, but the Games had no exact outcome. Anything could happen, things that even the greatest fighter couldn't avoid. Sponsors happened but money didn't overflow. I tried not to let the kids grow on him, but they did anyway. I had sobbed when every one of them had died so far. All of them had been innocent – even if they acted tough, they still didn't deserve anything coming for them. Tears streamed down my face when I remembered some of them, but I pushed them away. No use. They continued to come, over sorrow about the Games, sorrow about my family…

_We finally arrived at the Capitol on the Tribute Train for the 67th Hunger Games- my second year as a mentor. People pointed and waved, girls swooning at my sight, all eyes on me rather than the two they were sending to death. The girl stood behind me nervously, peering at the gaggle of boys yelling obscene things to her. The boy flexed his muscles in the window, but not many women showed interest in him – only me. I sighed and turned away when we were finally blocked from their view. I sat down on a chair while we waited for a sign we could go to our rooms. The girl and boy sat near me – the girl was 16, the boy 18. I wasn't older than either of them, and that made giving them orders – especially to the male – awkward. I studied them. The girl was pretty – beautiful, even. Long blonde hair, tanned skin, and blue eyes, she could easily belong in District 1. The boy was muscular, slightly shorter than me with brown hair and eyes. Even now I saw the girl flirtatiously crossing her legs and batting her eyelashes at me. That's what most girls did – Capitol women (and men) were obsessed with me, District 4 girls obsessed with me. I didn't feel an attraction to any of them. I wondered why, but I didn't worry over it. I didn't want to be in a relationship with a 55 year old Capitol hag anyway. We got off the train and were taken to our floor and rooms. The quarters were plush, luxurious, and comfortable every year. I went in my room and was about to collapse on my bed when I smelled blood. _

_I whipped around and I saw what could be none other then President Snow. White hair, sagging skin, small and thin. He licked his lips and I saw flecks of blood on them. I had to fight the curious look that was on my face, and instead put on a respectful smile. "Finnick Odair – 16 already?" He purred. I nodded soundlessly, nervous about where this was going. "As you can see, you're very well liked by many of our citizens. Very." He smiled coldly at me. "Occasionally, we get such a flurry of requests that we can't deny people's demands. Understand?" I nodded, my face white, desperately hoping he wasn't headed toward somewhere I didn't want to go. "Your body will be sold. Just do it quickly with them, and they'll pay you with whatever you want. Have to make the citizens happy. When anyone asks for you, you will do what they command. Am I clear?" The president began to move toward the door when I answered. _

_"No. I won't be some tramp, catering to the likes of lonely, old, Capitol losers." The president turned towards me. "What? Are you sure?" I nodded boldly. He smiled cruelly at me and sighed sadly. "Consequences, Consequences..," He then left the room before giving me one last smirk with those blood flecked lips of his. I woke up next morning to the cheery voice of the Capitol escort. She knocked on my door again and again, until I wearily pulled open the door. "Yes?" I said, annoyed by her unnatural perkiness. "You were delivered a newspaper by President Snow himself, wanted to keep you updated on the District news, so kind of him!" My body went numb and cold as she handed me the paper. I took it and recognized it was one I sometimes read when back home. The headline read, "Freak Boating Accident claims 5". Under it were the names of my family._

_I sobbed and Mags came into my room to see what was wrong. She held me while I told her the whole story, and she replied to me worriedly in her odd speech. "You have to do it, Finnick. He can easily destroy all of District 4. J-Just close your eyes. Demand a lot of pay from those rich fools." She patted my head and I knew, gratefully and sadly, that that was the last thing she wanted_ _to suggest. "I know … I'll phone President Snow and let him know I've accepted his … offer."_

It pained me to think of that. It was hell, on a good day I only got with 10 people a night. They paid me well. The last thing I wanted was money – I already had more than enough of that. I wanted secrets - secrets about the government, about Snow. They told me so many – the blood in his mouth, for one. He constantly poisoned political opponents who were a threat to him and took a small dose himself to not arouse suspicion. Snow didn't care nor figure anything out, I think he assumed I wanted money so he never checked. No one blabbed, afraid I wouldn't be with me them anymore. I got a reputation, as a Capitol heartbreaker, one whom never stayed for long and always went, never to be seen again. In truth, there was only one person I loved and would never leave… Annie.

I ran out the door of my home quicker, eager to see her. I first knocked at Mags' door, my mentor – though more like a mother to me – seeing if she needed a help. A note had been taped on her door, reading: "Gone already, Finnick, dear. –M." I smiled and walked to the square. I received eyelash flutter after eyelash flutter, but none even made a dent in him. I arrived at the square and was greeted with cheers and more attempted advances by women. I sat down on my Victor's seat with the others, in order. There were 9 of us in all, maybe 4 had passed away from our grand total of winners. Then I saw her. Annie. Her beauty took my breath away, her lovely green eyes and dark hair making her, easily, the most gorgeous girl in the District. As her eyes met mine for the fraction of a second, I was reminded of the day I met her, and fell in love with her..

_I ran, sobbing, away from my home. My parents and younger siblings had lived there. All evidence was still there – my sister's and brother's toys, my father's books, my mother's jewelry. I missed them, I hated President Snow for doing such. I had to get away from there for awhile. Even Mags couldn't comfort me. I took a path into the small section of woods at the edge of town. I remembered a few, small, personal beaches here where no one would be and no one would hear me as I cried. I got to one, mainly consisting of bushes and trees but still leading to the water and a patch of sand. I began to sob, holding my head in my hands. I completely burst, screaming my anger and hatred towards Snow and the government. That's when I see a flash of white – a pile of clothes. I walk over to them and turn them over with my foot – a plain white shirt, a patched up skirt, and girl under things. My heart starts to pound. It seems like a teenager's things, but who says Snow's not behind it? That one of his officials is spying on me right now. "Who's there?" I called sharply, receiving silence as an answer. Then I hear a loud sound. It sounds a bit like an animal, but still obviously human._

_I stare at the bush from behind which it came, and know the person must be in the water. I wait for them to come out, knowing that I hold their clothing, they have to eventually. I hear a few splashes and suddenly a girl is in my view. Everything but her head is underwater. I expect to feel nothing for this girl, to regard her as nothing more than a plain teenager. My spine starts to tingle when I see her, though. Her skin is pale, ivory; unlike most here. Her hair is dark and she has long bangs. Her eyes are a deep, luscious green. "Are you okay?" She asks shyly, seeming genuinely concerned. I can't help it – tears roll down my face again. A mix of someone apart from Mags actually caring for me and not wanting something in return and my raw grief overcomes me. She gets up out of the water and pats my shoulder gently. I lean my head on hers, overwhelmed by such an unknown kindness. She gives me an awkward sort of side-hug, not throwing herself at me like most women would._

_I'm surprised when her furious voice cuts into my ears." I'm sorry, the Games must have been… horrible, I can't imagine what mentoring must be like," She says, "President Snow and the Capitol are cruel and disgusting. They care nothing for us, they surely have earned far from a spot in Heaven for all they do." I feel a strong surge of something. The fury and anger in her voice is real. It's not an act she's putting up for me. She's not fake, syrupy, and shallow. I haven't heard anyone voice their opinions so freely before, either. I like her for immediately saying what she thought. I sit down, leaning against a tree, and motion for her to join me. "He killed my family, murdered them when I wouldn't go into prostitution. The Capitol citizens can't keep their paws off me now that I'm 16." I say quietly. Her eyes widen and she begins to cry slightly herself. "I still have Mags, but I'll always miss them.. I-I didn't mean for him to kill them..," Rather then continuing to simply tell me it'll be okay, I see pure rage in her eyes. _

_"It wasn't your fault, it will always be the Capitol's fault. They'll get what they deserve some day. Snow will not get away with all this." Her words, strangely, make me feel much better. It's true – they won't. I'll help avenge my family someday.. someday soon. I turn to the girl again. "Thank you. So, I- what's your name?" I look her up and down slowly. She's only wearing her birthday suit. I smirk lightly, not sure if I've been fooled by an act or if she really isn't aware she's nude in front of me. She's brushes her hair with her hands, nervously; then puts her hands to her sides. Her eyes widen and her face goes beet red when she doesn't feel any fabric under her fingers. _

_"Nice outfit," I tease. Her face goes even redder and she crosses her hands against her chest. I don't stare like most guys my age would. I just smile slightly are her, finally confirmed she's a hundred percent real. "So, uh," She begins awkwardly, the blush not leaving her face. "Do you like to swim?" She clearly pulls out the first thing she can, not aware that given her current situation, it could sound … wrong. "Sure," I say, grinning at her. I run and plunge into the water, fully clothed. She laughs, a deep, real sound; and dives in after me. I'm not quite sure what came over me, but it's been a while since I've had real fun with someone I truly liked. We splashed, played games, and laughed to no end. It gave me a strange kind of feeling to see the happiness on her face, a good one. We finally climb out when it starts to get dark. She grabs her clothes and holds them over herself, blushing again but still smiling. I can't help it: I quickly kiss her and wink at her. I'd heard in books of feeling 'fireworks' when you have true love's kiss, but I hadn't believe it actually happened. Until now._

It had hurt the most that Annie knew what I was forced to do. I felt unfaithful to her, I was, maybe. She said she understood, but it broke my heart anyway. She was a secret – no one could know with all my Capitol 'lovers', though Mags had figured out easily and instantly (she loved Annie just as much as me, now). But now with both her and Mags in line to be killed if I rebelled again – Snow spied and found it out, and though I wanted to kill him for getting someone to watch Annie and me .. who knows when – I didn't dare stop. I snapped out of my thoughts as the tattooed district escort called the name of the girl tribute. Another one sent to their death, I thought selfishly. Then Mags poked me and looked horrified. I stared at the girl. Someone we knew? I hadn't been paying attention. It was Annie.

Her face was a cold, emotionless mask. She looked like she might cry out, but she kept her lips sealed. I felt my world spin. Oh, god, not Annie! Not her! Anyone but her! My face turned white as I realize she might die. I'll have to help Mags mentor her, too. This can't be happening. District 4… the sponsor money is limited. Annie is beautiful, but her talent holds in water. Not weaponry. She has an amazing personality, but it can't all be reflected in a 3 minute interview. I can't sponsor her. I'm her partner's mentor, her help. I feel my eyes water and know people must be wondering why I look like I'm in agony, but I don't stop. Odd. Out of thousands, Finnick Odair's lover is picked. Now, I'm going to watch her die, knowing the helplessness, hunger, pain, and horror she feels in the arena. I bury my face in my heads.


	3. Chapter 3

Annie's POV

Peacekeepers lead me to the Justice Building. I'd never been inside before; and I'm not surprised to see it's nice - blue silk furniture, shells and sand dotting the room in vases. I don't expect any visitors. My mother is too frail to leave her home; Finnick is probably forbidden as well as the fact that that would raise questions. I finger my bracelet and sadly remember how I'll never see my Father again. So, it's much to my surprise when the door opens. It's my friend, a girl who lives in the slum areas around my house. She looks subdued and on the verge of tears. "I ran as fast as I could to get your mother, Annie. I know we aren't close friends, but we do both know what it's like to live in … you know. I knew I'd feel awful if I di- left without a proper good bye to my Mother." She blushes at her mistake and I only nod in confirmation at her words. She gives me a quick hug. "I'll say a prayer for you, okay? We can't afford to sponsor you but know all of us poor people are rooting for you." She smiles weakly and I reach out to hug her. I call out to her quickly, "My mother will be lost without me. Please visit her every once in awhile, just remind her… she's not alone. Explain to my Father what happened and tell him I love him." The girl bursts into tears and waves sadly before leaving.

My mother enters. Her frail, weak body looks barely able to hold itself up and I realize a few kids probably had to help carry her here. I feel a sudden burst of love for my neighborhood and gratefulness … that at least some people in the districts will care when I …. pass on. I hold my Mother while she sobs. We simply hug each other for ten straight minutes before I talk. "Mother, remember I love you. Please, remember who I am. I hope I don't have to turn … into a .. killer, but I may have to. Remember you still have Father. Finnick and Mags will feed you," She looks confused at my last sentence, and I quickly blurt out. "Finnick. I love him. We may have gotten married one day," I feel tears slip from my eyes at her shock and sudden grief. "I love you, Annie. I'll never forget you." Her last words to me. I call out a timid, sad, "I love you" back and listen to her choked sobs as they make their way down the hall. I expect to sit in this fancy room, alone, for the next half hour so I jump when the door opens again.

I see a tall, pretty, blonde woman, her tear streaked face bright red. "Hello," She says softly, her voice filled with desperation. "Please – help my son. He's s-so young. Only turned 12 last week," Her eyes overflow with shining tears as she continues. "We never paid much attention to h-him – he has younger siblings, and my husband and I work. We expected him to raise himself, and I know now what a horrible mistake that was. Please – he's never known care. He's sweet, gentle, scared and a bit nervous by nature. Witty and fun, though. M-Maybe you can help him. J-Just let him have a friend before he's killed," I don't hesitate whatsoever as I nod. Who could ignore a desperate mother's plea? Better yet, who could watch a small 12 year old die and not do a thing? Certainly not me. "I'll do whatever I can. I promise." She hugs me and thanks me over and over, and I realize I may have made my own survival a lot more difficult than it already was.

I'm herded out again by Peacekeepers – I try to make it not so visible that I was crying, but the Cameras catch it. I rush to the Tribute Train, and sigh in relief as the doors finally close. There's quarters for all of us and tables and chairs to sit on to watch the view as we make our way to the Capitol. I feel tears slipping down my cheeks as I watch the ocean go by. F-For the last time. I desperately try to hold onto the image of the bright blue water and warm sun so I can think of it when I'm miserable and dying, in the arena. I smile at the slow, lapping waves, thanking them for all the happiness they've given me over the years. Joy in a bleak life, Finnick .. My breath catches in my throat and I start to sob. My district escort coos and smiles kindly at me. "It's okay, dear! You're fine!" I take the tissue and realize Finnick, Mags, and my district partner are all staring at me mournfully. "Yes. I'm fine." I say reassuringly, though I fail miserably and sound like a scared child. I finally examine my District Partner and introduce myself. He's small, and looks bluntly more like an 8 year old then a twelve year old. I gasp as I stare at his face. His hair, his eyes, his skin. He looks exactly like Finnick .. and me. A mix of us - Finnick's bronze hair, both of our green eyes, my porcelain skin. His face even has features similar to ours – then I pinch myself. I'm delusional. Finnick and I will never have a child, and I've already been submerged in insanity if I believe a boy I'm going to sent into a death match with looks like us. Mags, Finnick, and even our normally oblivious District Escort are staring at me, looking for an explanation to my gasp. I shrug slightly and sigh. "I'm Annie," I smile at the little boy, "And we're going to be allies."

"Really?" The boy's smile is adorable. "I-I'm Dorien." As much as I tried to block it, I couldn't help but feel motherly towards him. He was cute, sweet, and helpless. It hit me with dread that only one of us could make it out of the arena alive. We all sit in silence, me not even glancing at Finnick, watching the sunset across the ocean. I sigh as we finally make way into a landscape of trees and grass. I can no longer see the thing that made me feel like home – and I never will see it again. I imagined so many District 4 tributes before me, probably thinking the same exact thing as me or being confident in seeing the ocean again – to have their dreams crushed. My heart drops into my stomach and my throat begins to feel sore. We go to have dinner – we're silent except for our half-hearted District Escort asking us what our talents are. "I have none." I mutter, and when I realize Finnick is about to object I stare at him sadly. Though I can't say it aloud, my eyes speak clearly enough. _Lying won't help me now_. "Me, either." Dorien sighs. Our district escort cheerily goes on about tributes whom have won out of pure luck, or discovered some unknown skill in the arena, but the excited and competitive gleam has gone out of her eyes. "What does it feel like to die, you think?" Dorien asks, surprisingly without fear in his voice. I want to lie and tell him he won't know for a long time. But I'm not that cruel as to give him hope. "I'm sure it's quick and painless. You go to Heaven, with all your lost loved ones. Your family will always remember you." He smiles slightly at this, and I continue. "They can be sad for a while, but not for long. They'll know you're not in pain and content. They'll move on, but you'll always be with them and waiting for them when it's their time to go." I look across the table and see Finnick's eyes shining with tears at my words.

Finnick's POV.

I'm numb with disbelief, but force myself to appear happy and jovial for our District escort and our little boy tribute. Mags and I both are fighting tears, no doubt, and Annie must be feeling shock and sadness already. The worst part is – I know how helpless and dead I felt when I was reaped. Now the person that I love more than anyone feels that way and I can't do anything. In the arena – I was scared. I felt like sobbing and calling for my Mother at times. I saw Tributes die from thirst, hunger, and every weapon imaginable. I killed some myself. Imagining Annie in the position of any of those deaths leaves me cold. I can't sponsor her. What if she gets no sponsors? What if I watch her die in one of the control rooms, dehydrating in the hot sun while I watch and can do _nothing. _It's so unimaginable it's unbearable. We'll work on an angle so she gets supporters. We _have_ to..

As we eat dinner in silence, I focus on chewing my food and nothing else. Mags is still beside me, doing the same thing I am. I reluctantly drag my eyes up when I hear the puny boy talk. We haven't had any conversations since the awkward one in which the Escort asked what talents they had, and both responded they knew of none. I wanted to punch the arrogant woman in the face when she sighed, clearly disappointed she didn't have a pair of killing machines this year. I'm surprised, in a sad way, at his question. "What does it feel like to die?" He asks in a small, but brave voice. _You'll know soon_, I think, then want to pummel myself for my lack of compassion. The kid is cute, small, looks a little bit like me. It might earn him sponsors but considering he spent the first hour on the train crying, I'm not sure he'll make it past the bloodbath. That's why I'm confused that Annie asked him to be allies - he, of course, accepted immediately. I knew Annie had a motherly nature, but for her to be so quick to allow such a untalented being to take her protection puts her at a disadvantage. But I know she won't change her mind. She never does. My head snaps up immediately when I hear Annie talk. She's answering the boy's question. She shoots him a gentle, soothing smile before she speaks. . "I'm sure it's quick and painless. You go to Heaven, with all your lost loved ones. Your family will always remember you. They can be sad for a while, but not for long. They'll know you're not in pain and content. They'll move on, but you'll always be with them and be waiting for them when it's their time to go." I realize Annie is talking to me. Mags also, but mainly me. My eyes fill with tears. _I'll always love you. I'll never move on.._

After dinner, our escort immediately goes to bed as well as the 12 year old boy tribute. Annie, Mags, and I sit in a set of chairs by a large television, sipping water and milk and not saying a word. Annie whispers something to Mags and Mags' nods before giving her a quick hug. "Finnick," She says, her eyes glimmering slightly with tears. I get up, understanding her want to talk to me. We got to her room and lock the door, grateful for the sound proof walls that protect us from our nosy district escort.

We sit on the bed for a while, awkwardly embracing. Neither of us are sure what to say, so I bring up the subject of her ally first. She stiffens when I suggest she break it off. Rather than getting angry or upset she collapses in my arms. I've so rarely seen that side of her before all I can do is stroke her hair. "Oh, Finnick, I'm sorry. I never gave you enough credit, enough sympathy for what you had to do and what you went through. _This is hell_. That kid.. he's twelve. He's had a bad life because his Mom and Dad never had enough time to pay attention to him. He's been neglected and hardly knows what care and kindness is. Now he's going to die. I teamed up with him because his Mother asked me too. To make friends with him, let him know he had someone before he died. _Hell_. My heart's broken and I'm not even in the arena."

I wish I could comfort her. I wish I could let her know it's not that bad, that she'll be fine.

_But I can't. _


	4. Chapter 4

Annie POV

I bite my lip and struggle not to tip over. My stylist has been working for hours upon hours on me, placing and fitting my dress on me and gluing additions on here and there. The base of the dress is a rustic-colored net, hardly covering my chest and stretching only past my mid-thigh. It's coated with blue and green glitter, and vibrant starfish and shells are glued on. Seaweed is braided into my hair, and my earrings and necklace are matching silver wires lined with smooth, green, sea-glass. A crown of pearls is placed on the top of my head, highlighting my dark hair nicely. I'm beautiful, but that certainly doesn't make up for the fact that I've been listening to complaints about my pale skin all afternoon: I believed that stylists had a bit of compassion, but, really, their thoughts revolve around being promoted to a better district and making themselves look clever or original with our costume designs. Not that they're fancying up someone who'll be dead in a week.

My blush is applied one more time, a coarse brush ran through my hair yet again; and I'm ready to see Dorien. As I hobble into the fancy sitting room between the two dressing rooms, I'm shocked at what stands before me. My shock isn't that of excitement, it's that of fury. Dorien looks miserable: curly hair extensions topped with a gold crown overflow his natural blond waves, and his skin has been artificially tanned so it's bright orange. Muscle padding the same tone as his new skin tone is strapped to his chest, arms, and legs, and a small patch of netting is his only clothing - but it's nothing compared to what's gripped in his hand - a golden trident, taller and heavier than him; a replica of that which Finnick won with. It's all so ridiculous, all so disgusting. Portraying him as someone strong and undefeatable when he's the youngest and weakest contender in the Games, when he's about to be killed on live television, with his family and everyone watching. Portraying him as my protector, when it's the opposite.

We're herded downstairs into the high-class stables our carriages and horses are in. This will be the first time everyone will see their competition apart from the taped reapings, and the Carriage rides will be a chance to make an impression on Panem. I've no need to be worried, as 1, 2 & 4 normally draw the most gasps, but there's always a chance people won't be impressed. Our carriage is covered with glittery shells and our streaked white horses are painted with fish and suns. We're put into our positions: Dorien is forced to hold one hand up, showing off his faux muscles, gripping the trident in his other hand, and all of it is topped off with a smirk. I'm supposed to grip his shoulder and lean over, holding one hand on my hip, all while pouting my lips and looking helpless. Both of us have been threatened numerous times, and neither of us are allowed to sit down. My cheeks burn with embarrassment as other tributes laugh and point at us, but I manage to keep a steady, mutual expression. I examine all the tribute's costumes, and as usual, 1 & 2 stand out more than any other. The other districts aren't anything special, and I feel a pang of sadness that they are underdogs from the start. I push away the emotions and go back to focusing on looking poised and impressive. I take a deep breath and plaster an innocent grin on my face as the carriages are led out, and try to ignore the shrieks of the crowd and the fact that everyone in Panem will be watching me soon.

Finnick POV

I'm perched on a fluffy Capitol chair, leaning over the balcony all victors are seated on. I'm placed in the very front of the sea of victors, next to other young, attractive and popular victors. It's not something said, but everyone knows the better looking and more well-known victors are placed where the cameras can easily focus in on them and people can more clearly stare and scream things at them. I smile at the crowd and occasionally catch a rose thrown at me, but I'm only focused on waiting for the 4th carriage to come out. I only briefly pay attention to the first three carriages, and as usual 1 and 2 look marvelous and receive an outburst of applause. There's scattered applause for 3 and I hold my breath as Annie's Carriage emerges. She looks gorgeous, but Dorien….. he looks pitiful. Fake. Ridiculous. How they're standing is obscene, too; but Capitol people will be sure to eat it up. They'll love how 'cute' and 'adorable' it is. People in the districts will no doubt find it sad, pathetic; but their opinions tend not to matter. The applause for them is strong, and I hear many cheers of their names. I sit in a happy daze for the rest of the carriages, carefully measuring how much applause each receives. None get an overwhelming amount. It's petty to take pleasure in another's failure, but I'm smiling by the time we're allowed to leave the balcony. Annie passed the first test given to her. She'll have sponsors. Now, only three more left to pass….


	5. Chapter 5

Annie POV

I awake the next morning on my own, and take the chance to enjoy a few peaceful moments to myself before I'm forced to be a tribute. Last night had been fun, sun in an otherwise utterly gray sky. We had all chattered excitedly over our success in the carriages, and watched the tape a few times while teasing each other and playing games. It truly gave me some hope, and for that I'm glad. I know Dorien is proud of himself, too; and even that gives me a little perk. The best was seeing Finnick smiling, though, him not carrying the frown that's been signature since I got reaped. A sick feeling of dread ultimately replaces my happiness, though, as I realize what's today. Training. When people form alliances and size each other up. We didn't really discuss alliances apart from Finnick insisting that I try to make my way into the Career alliance. He told me it'd guarantee my survival for the first few days, which were some of the most crucial - the days when you figured out if you could survive in the arena, when you formed a plan. I really don't want to take his advice – in most Hunger Games, Career alliances turned against each other and it became bloody. Eventually, when they finished picking off the easiest tributes, they turned to the weakest in their alliance. I already know they'd hardly consider Dorien and I to be valuable members – I've considered attempting to act tough and emotionless like the typical Career; but if they recruited me and I insisted that Dorien join as well, they'd certainly refuse. Dorien and I will have to survive on our own.

I step out of my room and make way to the small dining room we eat in. Finnick and Dorien are already there, laughing and teasing each other. As I sit down, I sigh. "Any more tips for training today?" I ask Finnick. "You two should probably stay apart. Frequent stations that teach skills you don't have – so both of you can share and help each other," He smiled tentatively. "Don't act scared. Act strong, confident – no matter what other people think of you. Again - try still to get into the Career alliance – they'll immediately seek you out because of you District," Our escort also has advice. "Stick around the weapon stations. You don't have to do anything, just look stuck-up and like you know what you're doing. Follow around the other Careers. Brag. Show-off. Get them to notice you! They tend to stick around those like them, those whom have…. Well, big-heads if you want to put it that way." Mags has similar advice to Finnick's, she suggests we not stand out to much and learn how to do things we don't know how to. We're especially warned to get an eyeful of the poisonous roots and berries station, and learn what's good to eat and what will kill us before we hit the ground.

I hope that breakfast will last forever, but eventually we have to clean up our plates, leave the table, and get dressed. Our escort gives us simple outfits, comfortable and flexible for anything we want to try out. We're given a few minutes to wash up and then it's time to go down. Dorien and I are allowed to go down on our own and we wait in the lobby for a bit until all the tributes are down, and then we all file into the training room. The instructor pins our district numbers to the back of our shirts, and as she gives directions we're all given a chance to size our competition up. The District 1 pair is beautiful, each with silky blonde hair and both sleek and lean, traces of muscle imprinted in their arms and legs. Both have expressions of contempt on their faces. The District 2 pair is massive. Both are stocky and enormous muscles bulge out from the sleeves of their shirt. The rest of the tributes don't stand out to me as a threat. Most are like me – no sign of anything that will help them in the arena, all looking like they sincerely hope they'll get lucky in the arena. The only thing I do notice is that Dorien is most definitely the youngest tribute in the arena. As much as I look at the others, none seem younger than 15. I had hoped that there'd at least be one other young competitor to make him feel less alone, less like an underdog. But I'm out of luck.

I catch many different gazes thrown at me. Some are of shock, I guess because of the fact that I'm in district 4 and not particularly impressive. Others are of curiosity and interest, again because of my district or the fact that I'm standing close to Dorien, in an almost protective stance. I've decided to make my own plan. I'm not joining the Careers – even if they wanted us. They're cruel, and I certainly don't want to act like I'm happy about anyone they kill's death. Dorien and I will probably be reduced to the most terrible tasks, and when it comes to it we could be dead from our alliance members. Neither of us would want to stick around for whatever event would drive us all apart – and it'd be _very_ difficult to ditch the alliance without ending up with a knife stuck in our backs. I want to make Finnick, my Mother, my community proud. I know if my position was switched I'd admire someone who died sticking it out and trying their hardest. Not someone who joined the blood thirsty Careers, laughing over their success and taking lives like they're worth less than dirt. I could try to form another alliance, but I've seen far too many of those where they betrayed each other and a tribute another trusted wholly turned out to be eager to win, whatever the cost. I'm not about to trust someone I don't know – especially when it's obvious they want to get home just as much as I do.

As the instructor finishes explaining things, we're let out on our own. I nod to Dorien and he heads over to the camouflage station while I go to the plant information booth. The Careers immediately walk to the Weapons area, and show off their spear and archery skills all the while casting smirks and murderous glances at whatever poor tribute they see first. The person at my station is kind, they explain to me the plants I may experience, and gives me a full understanding of what things are probably poisonous. I spend an hour there, carefully examining all different sorts of edible and non-edible plants. I'm so absorbed in the book I was given I jump when someone swiftly taps me on the shoulder. All four Careers are standing there, all smirking at my jump. I manage not to blush and stand my ground, coolly letting out a "Yes?" to the blonde district 1 girl who poked me. "Uhmm," She studies her finger nails and glances at me in distaste. "Our group is rather small this year. Would you like to join? We could always use someone whom has a, err, _knowledge_ of things that could help us." She shoots a fake smile at me and coldly points at the plant book I'm holding. "You're District 4, too. We wanted to suggest membership to a higher district before we went to the lower districts." She drawled, sneering at a few tributes nearby. "Besides, your partner is the scrawniest thing I've ever seen. _No way_ are we asking him." I blinked innocently at them all, holding in the punch I desperately wanted to throw at the district 1 girl. "Uhmm, _no_, thanks." I let out a giggle before moving away from the station, leaving their mouths open in shock and me number one on their hit list.

Finnick POV

I clench my teeth and frown at Annie. It's almost the third session of training, and after that the private training with the Game-makers will happen. We haven't even discussed what Annie and Dorien will do with that, but that's the least of my worries. After the first training session, I had expected Annie to explain how she was a part of the Careers, therefore taking a large weight of my chest and giving her an almost sure survival the first few days. Instead, she had told me that she hadn't joined. She had rejected the invitation she had been given. Our conversation had been heated and we still were in a somewhat bad state with each other – our shouts still stood out clear in my mind.

"_Annie?" I held my breath and gazed at her. "Finnick…. I didn't join." It took me a minute to process this. "But, why? They're horrible, but they'll help you." She glared at me. "Human life is worthless to them, Finnick! You may be okay with that, but I'm not!" I didn't even pause as I shot back. "You'd think that your life, Mags and I's happiness, and your mother's sanity would mean more to you than some random tributes!" Tears began to spill down her face. "If I'm going to die, may as well die as myself, not a disgusting murderer who tore apart families! Not that you'd know, huh, Finnick?" She got up, and before leaving the room, coldly turned back. "Without me, you'll be fine."_

She hasn't spoken to me since. So I'm surprised when she catches my gaze and motions towards her room. I get up with her, leaving Dorien, Mags and our escort still at the table.

"Finnick, I'm sorry," She glances at me sadly. "It's easy to forget others have been through the same thing I have. The hopelessness can be overwhelming – knowing my life, all my hopes and dreams could be erased in less than a week. That everyone could forget about me.. another unspoken tribute lost to the Capitol's ways," She sighed. "If I must be lost for people to come closer to realizing how morbid this whole thing is, how much children suffer, then I want to go as myself. Not as someone turned brutal and sadistic for these Games."


	6. Chapter 6

Oh my god, so sorry for lack of updates [not sure if anyone has been following, buut XD]. I'll try to update more often, I've just been so busy [ this is a promise! ]. =[ Sorry guys and thank you readers! [Sorry if the story is moving slow now – I promise it'll get better soon as arena time comes.]

Annie POV

I face the panel of game-makers, my hands shaking and starting to sweat already.

I have no idea what to do – Finnick, Mags, and my escort all gave me advice, but none of it stuck with me. They all knew I have no remarkable talent, so what they could offer me was mediocre at most. They all told me to try my best, to dabble in all things and hope for the best. But I have no idea where to start… Careers earn 8s and 9s by amazing sword and knife talents, other tributes try to do the same but normally fail miserably and earn 3 and 4s. And then there's another option. I can always do nothing – though it may be a weak move in proving yourself to game-makers, it leaves you in a shade of mystery and shadow. Obviously, if I'm in District 4, people will expect me to be cold and eager with weapons. If I do nothing, many will assume it's because I'm hiding my talents and want other tributes to count me out.

It's selfish of me – but if I can't do much, might as well make people think that I can.

Though it's a hard thing to do, I simply stare at the makers and do nothing. I show no cracks in composure, no sign that I'm worried or afraid. I simply glare at them in cold silence, standing in the middle of the squishy gym mats spread out on the floor. Some of them stare at me, smirks on their disgustingly colorful faces. Others gaze at me in shock. Some simply continue loudly chewing their feast. After 5 minutes of my doing absolutely nothing, the lead maker begins to speak to me after letting out a squeaky laugh. "Are you going to do anything? If not, feel free to leave!"

Suddenly all my anger seems to release. These filthy game-makers – how many kids do they see each year? They could care less about each death. They have no compassion, no understanding. While they gorge themselves on luxuries and have a lot of life to look forward to, we have _nothing_. "Go to hell." I whisper it, and none of them seem to hear me. But I can tell from the anger, shallow surprise in the lead maker's eyes that he has. His cold gaze has me locked in place, and the other trainers start to tease me. "Can't you do anything? District 4? Throw a trident? Swim?" I snap back into place, and staring flimsily at the other makers, I answer in a rush. "I- no. I can't swim, or throw a trident.. I…," I run out of the training room and into the elevator, more ashamed of myself than anything. _I just put the Head Game Maker against me. _Everyone knows makers can kill tributes, if they want. You can do nothing about it – you may have just escaped a fight wound-less, and a game-maker decides to knock down a tree..? You're dead. I've almost guaranteed myself a painful and unpreventable death.

It snaps everything into place, into reality.

In a month, I will cease to exist. I'll be another tribute lost, another tribute forgotten. Perhaps, in the first year, my town will have a few memorials, but as more tributes die, they will slowly stop. Perhaps I will occasionally pop up in the mind of friends, but that too will stop with time. Finnick… I love him. I wish, hope, that he'll always love me too. But in truth, he could have anyone he wanted. In a few years, I'll be a distant, perhaps fond, memory. He'll have kids and a new wife by then. I'd like to think he'll never forget… but it's selfish to long for him to always hold on to me. In twenty years, I'll be a sweet childhood crush that he holds no importance to. My mother and father … of course they'll never forget me. But in a few years my Mother will die, my Father too; and as they age I'll be nothing more than a child they wish they didn't have to lose. In 5 years, no one will remember exactly what my face looked like. Or what my voice sounded like. Or what I loved, what I did, my hopes, my dreams.

It's terrifying how easily a human being can be erased.


	7. Chapter 7

Finnick POV

I'm struggling. I still can't understand, can't fathom. In other years, I had to watch The Games. I just couldn't. I struggled not to cry every time a cannon went off, every time a child's life ended. Even if I didn't know them. But I had to keep a straight face. Snow was watching, other victors were watching. We're all forced to sit in a sterile, windowless, camera-infested room each year of the Games; drab gray chairs seated in district order. You sit according to popularity, age. Nobody speaks of it but everyone knows it's true. We're all forbidden to show even the slightest bit of emotion – or else. We can't cry out, can't bite our lip, can't frown, even if our tribute dies. We have to seem happy, dully cheerful. For some of them, it's easy. They crave violence, death. Have long stopped caring. But for some, a rare few, maybe, me included – every death, every drop of blood spilled is a tragedy, a horror.

If I can't stand a random tribute's death, how will I cope with Annie's? It'll be unbearable to watch her run out of food, water; become lonely, scared, maybe; if she even survives past the bloodbath. I won't even be able to sponsor her – if she starves and gets no sponsors, or gets sick; I can do nothing. Even with my piles of money, I will watch as she slowly dies. It's not just that – I have no idea how I'll be able to live long after her Games have even ended. She's my one true love – it's only bearable parading around each year of the Games because I know I have her waiting for me, someone who cares for me and values me not for my money, not for my fame, or looks, but for me.

I will _never _be able to go to the Capitol again, never be able to face Snow or any of the other victors with a straight face again. Never be able to conduct another interview, never be able to even look at another Capitol tramp that I …. Work for.

Maybe I could survive if I moved back to District 4, lived a simple and empty life, only myself for company. If I never set foot in the Capitol again, only kept contact with Mags. Spent all my time imagining the life Annie and I could have had, kept her memory alive by constantly thinking of her.

But I'm Finnick Odair. Beloved, handsome, shallow Finnick. My life could _never_ be that. I will always be the property of the Capitol, always be forced to come back again and again. If I rebel, reject the life Snow has laid out for me, I will be subjected to endless torture. Never death… but never-ending pain and horror. Mags is like a mother to me, but there's a difference between having your mother to live for and having your beloved to live for. Annie is all I have left…

I've made the decision. If Annie dies… so do I. The Capitol can't take her without taking me too.

Say it's sick of me, but I've planned… it already. It'll be unbearable, but I'll wait until the end of Games for her. I'll wait until I'm on air, when the Victor is announced and on after-games interview. I'll wait until they show the clip of her death – to show people _why_. Finnick Odair's death on air… the reactions of everyone will be priceless. But it'll show them. It'll show Snow. None of us victors lead happy, rainbow-filled lives. It's like a vital part of our soul died the day we were reaped… like we died along with the 23 others.


	8. Chapter 8

Finnick POV

I sit with Dorien, and fight the urge to bash my face into the too-white Capitol table we're seated in front of. We're training together, trying to work on an angle for interviews – those that will be in a few hours. Annie's in the other room with our escort, practicing etiquette, and I'm not anticipating the moment she comes in. Dorien's gotten some attention – mainly pity-based, but in the Games any attention is good attention. Some adore him because he's not the typical Career – he's a shrimp, what chance would he actually stand against the other Careers? The Games seem fairly typical this year – good-looking, lethal District 1; strong, threatening District 2; all arrogant. Fairly unremarkable other Districts. For once I'm glad that there will be a bunch of blood-baths….. less competition for Annie… and Dorien.

I stare at Dorien and evaluate our conversation. We'll be forced to take the weak, helpless, sweet route; much to my displeasure. He's cute, and hopefully that'll earn some sponsor points, but there's only so many sponsors who will fall for that act. I don't have much to work with… especially since his training score… Training score. Even thinking those simple words causes me to wince in discomfort. Annie refused to tell me, or any of us, what she had done or what had happened – so all we could do was wait as the training scores were broadcast. The early districts scored in the 8-10 range… and then it was our turn. A forbidding 2 popped up above Dorien's name…. and a 0 above Annie's. Watching her face, I expected shock or fear, but I only caught a slight smirk before she quickly changed her expression to reflect someone who was dully bored. Our escort burst into tears, probably sad she had no chance of being promoted to District 1 in the near future, and Mags and I just sat in stony silence. I regret it, but as soon as Mags and Dorien went to bed, I turned on Annie.

"_What are you doing? You could have at least tried – for me, for your mother! A 0? That must be a record – even if a tribute sits around, they give them a 1 or 2 for good measure!" I yelled. "You aren't completely hopeless! You can do some things – you have skills – now the Careers will mark you down as an easy kill! They'll take you down immediately, you'll be a blood bath!" She seemed shocked, hurt, but anger quickly replaced her uncertainty. "Finnick… I'm going to die anyway. I wish I could say I had some hope, that it hasn't disappeared; but now that I've really thought about I know it's selfish to even believe I have a chance! The Hunger Games kills even the toughest Careers – why would _I _survive? There's nothing special about me. The sooner you learn that, the better!" Tears began to stream down her face as she tore from the room. "But you can't die.. not this way.. you can't suffer," I managed to choke out, though by then she was too far gone to hear me. I let the gentle fall of my tears rock me to sleep as I realized.._

Yes, I know. I know it's inevitable. Her death. It's heartless of me to say, but she's right, even the Careers die. Natural causes. Gamemaker surprises. I was lucky. I barely survived a hurricane in my arena, and even then, winning by my trident talents, I was lucky. I only won because of sponsors, too – they all wanted me, a gorgeous fourteen year old boy. The chance of sponsors for Annie is slight – she's beautiful, but her training score…? But I'm cheered up by the fact that sometimes tributes – even past victors, like Johanna – took the defenseless, childish route and ended up being amazing fighters. It's a strategy to make Careers ignore you, not take you as a threat. Clever, observative sponsors notice this. Unless someone looks extremely weak, they suspect something… And that gives me hope.

Though I'm dreading the ending to Dorien's training, it comes. We decide on the cute, clueless angle and hope for the best. It'll come easily for him – there's no need to act, we basically took his general aura and sugar-coated it. A shiver passes through my spine as Annie enters the room. She avoids looking at me, and a red blush fills her cheeks. Her dark hair is down and her emerald eyes seem dull, as if they've lost some of their hope. That makes my heart drop into my stomach, and before I can stop myself an apology blurts from my mouth. "Annie, I'm so sorry. I absolutely love you, you realize that, don't you? What you think is best is for you.. is best for you. I didn't mean to..," I don't say it, but it's easy to translate my underlying tone. _You should choose… how you die…_ She nods in acceptance and a timid smile comes to her lips. Encouraged, I begin our training.

It's hard, advising someone you're close to on how to act, but we manage. By the end Annie has aced it. She acts kind, humorous, clever, and slyly silent but over control of what her talents are. She's confident, and not a trace of weakness or fear lines her tone. By the end of our session we seem to have completely recovered from our fall-out. Before we part, Annie smiles at me in relief. "You'll be in the front row.. all I have to do is pretend I'm speaking to you… just smile, okay?" She wrinkles her nose before giving me a quick, shy kiss. My spirits are lifted.. no matter what happens, I still have one more day. One more day with the love of my life.


	9. Chapter 9

I'm working on another chapter right now… sorry, updates really shouldn't be so slow. /: I'm trying harder!

Annie POV

My prep team shapes and cleans my nails and painfully brushes and styles my hair before my stylist will see me. I have no idea what I'm wearing for my interview, but hopefully it'll be… pretty. Stand out, in a nice way. But it's an impossible wish for any tribute. I sigh. My angle for the interviews is strong, sly. I'll act secretive but hint that my training score was just a plot to help me survive longer. Nothing compared to the Careers, but it's a start and it's decent. It's hard to think about what my mother is feeling – I hope people are taking care of her, no doubt she's cracked from my training score. She's lost hope. It's sort of unbelievable that all of Panem knows who I am, will be watching me… tomorrow. What do they think of me, my score..? The other tributes, too.. I certainly scored lower than anyone else, so all the 'weak' Districts can breathe a sigh of pride and relief. Careers are already targeting me, this will make them even more eager.. I brush away my insecurities – it's true that in the big picture of things, whose opinion really matters besides my own and Finnick's..? It's the Hunger Games, and how I hold myself will be with me forever… into the after-life, if there is one. In the minds, however forgotten and distantly, of those few close to me.. forever.

My angle won't get me number one onto each potential sponsor's list, but I will be in the back of their head. If I survive the blood bath, which I'm almost positive I can, hopefully they'll pull me out. I haven't planned my strategy yet, but so far I've figured I'll have Dorien flee towards whatever forestation there is while I try to go for supplies. My years of swimming have made my legs strong, so running, though I don't enjoy it, isn't my weak spot. I'll try to get my hands on a few weapons – combat weapons, a knife or a spear – and supplies. Then Dorien and I will hide out in the woods and try to avoid conflict. It's a risky, fault ridden plan. But what are my options..? As soon as Dorien dies, I think I'll take out myself. Try to last as long as I can and when there's only a few of us left I'll do it. Or if things are going wrong, I'll try to quickly end it myself. It's a respectable way to die – I decide the terms of my own death. It won't do any wrong to my family. They wouldn't hurt them: They need my father, he's a strong worker, and my mother is too far gone to be of any use to them, to bring them satisfaction. Nobody knows about Finnick and I, apart from Mags and my mother… I hope. I don't want to be killed by a slow, painful spear to the stomach. I don't want to have to have Finnick watch my killer. If they win, there's no doubt he'd try to get revenge. And even though he's beloved, famous Finnick, there's no way it'd end well for him.

Thoughts, forbidding and sad, swirl around my head for the few more hours I'm worked on by the prep team. Finally my stylist comes in, colorful and despicable, to put my dress on. It's slipped on easily, and doesn't require any pins, effort or pain, unlike what I was expecting. My stylist is smiling in success, but I'm disgusted as I peer at myself in front of the fancy mirror. My dress is a longer repeat of my carriage ride dress. It's tan, ripped fish-net, covered with aqua glitter. The net is completely ripped over my private parts and flimsy, colorful sea shells cover substitute it. Intricate water, fish, shell, and swirl designs are painted all over my body in blue and green, and I'm given a mass of pearl and shell stringed necklaces, bracelets, and anklets to put on. My nails are also covered in glitter, and braided in my hair is shiny blue and green cloth and sea-weed. My make-up is as intricate and colorful as the designs over my body. I'm stunning, but so flimsily covered. I'm only 16 – and perverts in the Capitol, and the Districts, for that matter, have the full right to gawk at me. It makes me uncomfortable, and especially embarrassed… Finnick. He'll see me like this. The idea sends butterflies into my stomach, and before I have a chance to react I'm being shuffled down the elevator and to the stage. We're all herded out and the tributes form an orderly line onto the stage and into our seats. I try not to let myself get nervous, but my palms sweat and my feet tap. I try to find Finnick's face in the crowd, and it's easy. He's located in the front of the victor crowd – he shoots me a coy smile and a wink. I try not to pay attention to the other tributes – no use comparing myself to them now. I keep my eyes on Finnick, and though I know he's feeling just as nervous as I am, he smiles at me and keeps his lovely eyes bright and reassuring.

Soon it's my turn. I glance at Finnick one last time before heading towards Caesar. I walk confidently, showing off my outfit while still remaining respectable. I know thousands of eyes are on me but it doesn't bother me. As I plop down in the plush seat, I mentally prepare myself for questions. They're mainly about me, the Capitol – I hardly think before answering questions, I just get it over with - all the while keeping my eyes on Finnick. I answer confidently, cleverly. I keep a smirk on my face, as hard as it is. Then the question I've been dreading comes: "Tell us about your training score." Caesar's voice is a mix of sympathy and pity, and it angers me. "Oh, that," I wave my hand and laugh coldly, smirking. "I don't think anyone should discount me for it..." I laugh shortly, bitterly. He doesn't have time for the answer as my time runs out, and as I get back to my seat I smirk at the Careers. I'm not really proud – it's an act. It is. But it's an act that'll help me.

As I glance back once more at Finnick, the smile never leaves his face… reminding me that everything will be okay.


	10. Chapter 10

Finnick POV

Annie's interview went… amazingly. She was…. Terrifying. Her cold answers about her training score suddenly made her seem fit to be a Career, and her brutal smirk matched that of the District 2 boy. My gaze never left hers.. her outfit was certainly.. something. I saw male tributes eyeing her in lust and female tributes eyeing her in jealously. The Career girls are beautiful and deadly, the Career boys are strong and blood-thirsty. Thankfully, the rest seem like… bloodbaths. Nervous, hoping for the impossible, but knowing deep down it will never come true. Dorien manages to act adorable and sweet, and he's not entirely forgettable. It only takes so much to gain a handful of piteous sponsors. I ignored the comments of other victors about Annie – it's somewhat of a victor tradition to critique each tribute - at interviews, chariots, during the Games themselves. Female comments ranged from slight jealousy to pity, as some remembered their own horrible interview costumes; male comments were mainly obscenities or simple boredom, not caring. My staring didn't go un-noticed, I had to restrain myself as I heard the comments:

"Ahh, congrats, Finnick, you've already done 'er..? What's it for, extra sponsor points?"

"He does that every year, doesn't he? Poor tributes. Thinking someone actually _cares_ about them."

As I walk away from the interviews, I ignore press. They yell questions, most of which I chose not to hear. It's unlike my charming, willing, demeanor, but that's the last thing on my mind right now.

By this time tomorrow, Annie will be in the arena. She might be dead. She's my world, and she was the person I was planning to spend the rest of my life with. She helped ease some of my pain as a victor. She didn't encourage me to forget what happened, or what I did, but to slowly heal. She understood me. She was the only person I could tell _everything_ to. What we have isn't fake, or forged. Capitol women like me because I'm manly, attractive and a victor. A few district women like me because I'm a victor, someone that could bring them fame and fortune. I could easily land any girl I wanted, but most of them wouldn't care about _me_ – who I really am, what my fears and dreams are. If I ever found another girl, it'd never be real. She'd try too hard to impress me, she'd be artificial. I will never get over Annie. She has held my heart for too long, we know every detail of each other's existence. If I chose to live the rest of my life, it would be empty. She would always be on my mind, and the moments we had would haunt me. It may seem like I have a lot to live for, but she is my rock. She's the only reason I've stayed alive. The life of a victor is a lonely, cold one. We're tortured by images of the Games, the memories of those poor children we killed. Those other 23 that died so that we could come home. Most of us find ways to cope. Morphling. Hobbies. A lucky few fall in love like me. If that's also ripped from us, like our innocence was in the Games, all of us couldn't survive. Suicide may be dramatic. But when she dies, it'll be the only way to drown the pain. Though it's sick of me, I'm content. If she dies, we'll both be free to rest eternally together, wherever we may go. No more of this cruel, unjust world. No more people that kill children simply for entertainment. No more hurt, no more pain.

The 23 dead tributes each Game almost get the better deal. Their soul is free of the arena. But when you're a victor…. Some part of you always lingers there.

I push away my thoughts as I head back and arrive at the District 4 floor. Dorien and Annie are already there, both in slacks and simple cotton shirts. They're watching recaps of the interviews, and I join them. The camera captures my lasting glances, and I breathe a sigh of relief that from the television set it simply looks like I'm checking out all of the female tributes. Not like I'm focusing on Annie. Besides Snow, Mags, and Annie's mother, I doubt anyone knows about us. I'm a notorious 'womanizer', so me paying extra-close attention to a tribute isn't any cause for talk. As Dorien stands up, he shoots us both a knowing look and goes to his room. Mags and our escort are asleep. We embrace and silent tears begin to spill from her eyes as she buries her head in my shoulder. We kiss, a long kiss filled with sorrow and longing. After that, we curl up together in my room, and talk. We talk about the life we could've, and would've, had together. We name our children, laugh and argue about what flowers we would've planted in the Victor's Village Garden, gush about what an amazing grandmother Mags' would've made. We plan a wedding on the beach, imagine weekends spent swimming in our 'spot' together. We wistfully imagine a world without the Hunger Games, a world where everyone has freedom and no child has to worry about dying before they're 18.

We talk well into the night, and by the time we're both yawning, I nervously pull something out of my back pocket. I stutter a bit as I hand it to Annie, and she gasps in shock. "I was planning this before you were reaped. I wanted to do this after I came back from the Capitol, I never even imagined I'd have to do it this way…," She starts to cry. "I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I already know you're the only girl I love and you're the only girl I'll ever love. The Hunger Games.. I didn't know they'd interfere." She holds a shimmering silver ring. A large ocean-blue stone with the occasional green swirl lays in the middle, and a specially carved, "I love you" is engraved in the side. I had been planning to propose to her after I came back from the Games. I knew we couldn't have an actual wedding nor could we make it public for the sake of our safety, and I doubted us being 'married' would change anything. It just made my love for her official. She clutches the ring and I gently take it and unclip her charm bracelet, before sliding it on. I slip the simpler silver, jewel-less one I had made for myself on my finger. "I had to make it so it was allowable for you to take your charm bracelet and the ring." I smile sadly, and the words I've been planning within the first month I met her leave my lips. "So .. will you marry me?" Both of us know there's no chance we can get married. Both of us know the Hunger Games are unforgiving. But, still… it'll give both of us hope. My words coax a slight smile to her lips and her eyes sparkle. "I think you know the answer to that." We kiss and melt into each other's arms.

It's hard for me to accept that this will be my last night – at least in this world – with the girl I love. But I know we couldn't have spent our time together better.

Annie POV

I want to keep on sleeping. My conscious knows that it's time for the Hunger Games, time for me to fight to the death, and it's not willing. But Finnick's voice allows me to slip out of my dreamy state, and the first thing I see when I get up are his bright green eyes. I put on a simple t-shirt and black pants, knowing I'll have to change before I go into the arena. I avoid the obvious, heart-wrenching moment, but it's time for Finnick and I to say good-bye. I hug him as tightly as I can and we share one last quick, loving kiss. "Finnick… thank you so much. Thank you for making my life.. amazing before I had to go." He wasn't expecting those words and his eyes start to water slightly. "Please… don't forget me. It's selfish of me to ask, but always have a little piece of me in the back of your head, okay?" I smile a bit, despite my grim situation. "No matter what you see in the arena.. just know that I tried my hardest, and I was…. Was.. thinking of you before I went." I hate to go on and on, but there's so much I want to say. "I hope you have a good life… enjoy it for me, okay?" His eyes widen and he pulls me to him. He whispers, barely audibly. "Annie.. when you die.. so do I. I love you, and I am not moving on. My life is nothing without yours. I will do everything to keep you alive, but if you go, so do I. We're spending forever together, and I'm not waiting a second longer than I have to, to make that happen. They need to understand that not all victors love the Capitol." My mouth forms into a wide 'o' and I grasp him. I want to protest, but I know he's telling the truth. I'm not sad because, I realize, if our situations were switched, I'd do the exact same thing. Finally, it's time to leave, to meet my stylist and head to the hover-craft that'll be transporting me to the Games. Finnick and I hold onto each other for dear life, and we exchange many "I love yous" before we head out of the room. Our escort shoots Finnick a disgusted look as she sees us come out of the same room, and we kiss freely, once more, in front of her. As I head away, I mouth an "I love you" to Finnick and he does the same. This can't… I … this is the last time I'll ever see him. We just stare at each other and before I know it, we're being transported to the Games.

Though I wish time would move slower, that I will never arrive at the Games, it happens. I'm given a paper cup of water and my stylist hands me an outfit. It's simple, a warm coat, durable pants, and running boots. Nothing to cause alarm, nor to provoke curiosity in me. I clutch the wedding ring Finnick gave me, and it comforts me to know that it can be the last thing I'll look at before I die. 5 minutes pass, and then I step on the metal plate. I tremble, in fear and anticipation as the plate rises it. I gasp as the arena comes into view. A beautiful mountain, covered in snow, streams running down it. A forest to my left. Ominous looking plains to my right. Dorien and I discussed my plan. He would run for dear life towards whatever protection there was, both of us hoping for a forest. I would nab what I could and join him. I'm taking a risk. The cornucopia is bountiful, and the Careers want bloodshed..

I'm overwhelmed. My life could be over in 10 minutes…

The 60 seconds seem to last forever, yet they're also gone too quickly for my liking.

_10…_

_My heart pumps faster._

_9…_

_I lean forward in anticipation, preparing myself to run._

_8.._

_I spot a pile of knifes and a slim, but seemingly full backpack, that's what I need._

_7.._

_All of Panem is watching me.._

_6…_

_Mags._

_5…_

_My mother._

_4…_

_My community.._

_3.._

_I don't want them to see me die.._

_2.._

_But most of all.._

_1.._

_Finnick.. I have to survive for him._


	11. Chapter 11

Not much is happening since it's the beginning of the Games; I really appreciate anyone reading~

[**WARNING**: there's a slightly inappropriate section in Finnick's POV]

Annie POV

I lurch forward and sprint towards the cornucopia. I caught a flash of blonde hair and tilted my eyes enough to see that Dorien was sprinting towards the forest. Luckily, he was fast, and easily missed, considering the Careers had slower, more immediate prey to catch. I send a prayer of thanks to whoever may be listening to my thoughts as I realize I'm a much faster runner than the lumbering, clumsy Careers. I grab three knives, a backpack and a loaf of bread, and I'm on my way. I try to ignore the children falling only feet away from me, dribbles of blood pouring out of their mouths and the shimmer slowly leaving their eyes. I'm almost to the forest when the District 1 girl notices me. She begins to run after me, reaching only a few feet away from me, a knife gripped in her hand. I react quickly, and launch one of my knives at her. Luckily for me, it sticks in her upper arm, and blood begins to pour out. By her mixed shrieks of fury and pain, I can tell that it's her throwing arm. I can't watch to see what her reaction is, but I can tell she can't afford to come after me with an injury. I run, as quickly and quietly as I can, and I know that Dorien would've had the good sense to get as far away from the Bloodbath as he could.

Bright day turns to afternoon and I'm beginning to jog, out of breath. I've almost given up on the concept of finding Dorien when I hear a low voice call my name. I arm myself with a knife, and put a scowl on my face, just in case this happens to be a trap. But I see a small, pale hand beckoning to me from behind a berry bush and I slowly head there. "Dorien?" I whisper. I almost gasp in shock when his face pops out, grinning at me. "Check this out!" I crawl under the berry-bush. There's a hollow gap in the tree behind it, the thick bush thoroughly concealing the opening. The gap is very small. Only enough for both of us to sit with our knees up. But it's protection and if the Careers happen to come past here, they certainly won't notice us. Both of us wince as the cannons start to go off, announcing the victims of the blood-bath. There's 13 loud booms, and then everything falls silent.

I don't allow myself to wonder how Finnick is doing. I don't allow myself to think of the thousands of people that are watching me, that will be watching my death. Dorien and I are safe, and we survived the blood-bath with decent supplies, so I allow myself some hope. We open the back-pack, and inside we find a small vial of iodine, a miniscule bottle of water, a pair of gloves, and some beef jerky. The pickings are small and disappointing, but we also have the bread I grabbed and my two knives. I don't want to think about fighting or killing another tribute, but it's inevitable if Dorien or I want to get out of here. I'm disgusted with myself for thinking of human life as simple pawns that need to be disposed of, but it's a Game and my competition feels the same way about me. Dorien and I begin to plan. We can stay at our shelter today, but tomorrow we'll have to try to find water and hunt. I hand him one of my precious knives, and we discuss what to do during a fight with another tribute. Try to stab them in their hand, arm, or thigh if they have the upper-hand, and then get away. It sounds as though I'm only offering Dorien that advice because he's weak, but that's my plan if I come across conflict, too. We avoid talking about death or splitting up, and before we know it, we just begin to talk to pass the time.

For the first time, I notice his district token. It's a dirty, woven bracelet with a painted shell attached. Carved on it are initials, and a scribbled heart. Before I can stop myself, I voice my curiosity. "What do those mean?" He hesitates but then smiles at me. "It's for my sister." There's a deeper meaning to his words, though. I don't want to hurt him by asking, so I only pat his back lightly. But he continues. "My sister died in the Hunger Games a few years ago. My mother and father dedicated their lives to helping her train, and she volunteered. She was beautiful, and she knew how to use a weapon. She made it to the final five, and survived the Career split. She left her camp and supplies for a few minutes to gather more water, and while she was gone a tribute replaced her regular berries with poisonous ones. She didn't know the difference and died," His face shows no emotion, but his green eyes display sadness and anger. "I'm sorry," I whisper, and hug him. "She's in a better place." He said quietly and shrugged. He stared at my bracelet. "What about yours?" His eyes widened when he saw the ring and the small inscription. "I… you.. I'm really sorry. You have it much worse than I do," Dorien's eyes flicker up to the sky and I can tell he's not saying it to me. He's saying it to Finnick. His eyes display a hard kind of sorrow, the kind that says there's something wrong with this world. He doesn't need to say what he's thinking for me to understand. The Hunger Games aren't fair. The Hunger Games tear families apart, erase dreams and memories without a second glance.

Finnick POV

My eyes are glued to the screen, watching Annie's every movement, when someone taps my shoulder. It's a victor, from District 1. "President Snow wants to see you," His eyes are empty and he looks nervous. All the other mentors watch me in shock as I slowly walk out of the room. President Snow is waiting for me, and he leads me into an empty room. A large desk sits in it, as well as a smooth, white leather couch. He motions towards the couch and I sit down. He sits behind the desk and stares at me for a few seconds. He smells overwhelmingly like blood and sickly-sweet roses, and I come close to gagging before he starts to speak. "There are cameras on each district floor, you understand." I stiffen and nod slowly. "You already know about Annie and I," I say defiantly. "The Capitol adores a good love story, but not when it involves our beloved Finnick Odair. Luckily, no one has caught on. If you weren't vital and so popular, I'd kill her now. You may continue to see her if she wins, but if anyone figures you out, I will kill your… fiancée. Remember, Finnick…," He pulls out a copy of the newspaper that announced the death of my family and grins at me, blood lining his lips. I'm praying that this is all and I can leave when he stops me.

"Finnick, you have some customers. Just because you're in… love, doesn't mean Capitol women want you any less!" He smiles grotesquely at me and throws a key my way. "But, Annie..," I say quietly. He simply laughs. "You're lucky so many admire you, Mr. Odair.. I'll make sure the Gamemakers keep her safe until you… are done." I head out of the building and into a large limo, flashes of cameras blinding me. The limo smoothly glides into the parking lot of a beautiful hotel. It's covered in shimmering lights and must be 15 stories. As I walk in, the attendant looks at me expectedly. I show him the key and he gives me a room number. After I leave, he looks at me curiously, wondering what a victor could possibly be doing here.

I bid my time, walking slowly. I curse my looks. They helped me win the Hunger Games, but they also…. Caused this. Mindless prostitution. I try to make myself not care.. I'm doing this because I have to. Annie's life depends on it. Mags' life depends on it. _My_ life depends on it. I reach the room and sigh. I knock on the door, hoping no one will respond, hoping it was a mistake. A mix-up. I hope they wanted some other victor. But I'm not lucky.

A pencil-thin woman, hideous plastic surgery not enough to improve her aging face and body, answers the door. Tattoos in gold and yellow swirl around her body, and she's wearing nothing more than a skimpy dress. I can see every part of her body. I wrinkle my nose and remind myself it'll all be over soon.. The hotel room is fancy, looks extremely expensive, and a large screen is playing the Hunger Games. I glance at it, and see Annie. Longing fills my heart. If only it were her here… Dorien and her are searching for food, skillfully avoiding any plants or berries they're unfamiliar with. The Capitol woman notices my watching and starts to gush. Her voice sounds so incredibly fake and nasally, and it's tinged with the odd Capitol accent. "Those are your tributes, aren't they? They're both such cute kiddies… I personally, think the boy can win… but I, myself, am going for the District 1 girl!" She grins, revealing rotted teeth. I glare at her. "I don't want money. If you sponsor my tributes," I fight the bile rising from my stomach, "I'll give you the.. the.. time of your life." I wince but continue to smile at her.

She swoons and I catch her. "So, what do you say?" I manage to choke out. "Yes, yes, of course!" She squeaks. She begins to kiss me, and I close my eyes, fighting the urge to leave the room and tell Snow I won't do this anymore. But seeing Annie's face, innocent and worried, stretched across the screen, gently stroking her wedding ring, is all it takes for me to kiss back.

I don't even take off my wedding ring as the appalling Capitol woman leads me to her bed.


	12. Chapter 12

Annie POV

Dorien and I shuffle around, our mouths dry and our stomachs rumbling. We tried to make the water last as long as we could, but two small sips each and it was gone. We've been walking around for hours, trying to find a stream or a pond, but we've come across absolutely nothing. The only water I saw was the streams that seemed to be built in both the inner and outer sections of the mountain, and it'd be death to strut past the Cornucopia. We still have half the loaf of bread and two strips of beef jerky, but we promised each other we'd save our food until we were absolutely sure we needed it. Food would only make us thirstier, too. We've tried to hunt, but apart from birds and squirrels, we've seen no animals. It's not exactly possible to hunt a bird with a knife, and we're both incompetent as hunters anyway. Our steps are heavy across the forest floor – District 4 is taught to swim. We have no training when it comes to wooded areas. We both jump as a cannon fires out, and shortly after another follows. "I hope that was a Career," Dorien drawls, and we both laugh tensely. Surprisingly, we've avoided danger so far. No Careers, no other tributes, no Game-Maker traps. It's too good to be true..

I sigh. "We need to take a break." We're both exhausted, and clearly it's not a good idea to travel more as it becomes darker – especially on no water. It's sunset, and it's beautiful here. I gasp as I gaze at the streaky orange and pink sky, and despite my inevitable death in this beautiful arena, I smile. The sunset reminds me of home, and Finnick. No matter how artificial it may be. I sigh, and Dorien and I begin to look for a place to spend the night. We find a small cave in a bed of rock, and soon it's evident we're both restless. We try to sit in the cave, but we're fidgety: I'm biting my nails, Dorien's kicking rocks around. "Hm… we might as well make use of us having so much energy." I pick up my knife and Dorien does the same, and we head outside. We each practice throwing. We carefully aim at trees, and after a while, we both get a few good sticks. We're not amazing, but it's enough between the both of us to hold someone off. We finally become tired and I'm about to retrieve my knife from a tree when I hear a twig snap. Before I can even react, the girl from District 9 comes blundering out of the trees. She tackles me, and in a second she has me pinned to the ground.

I remember her. She doesn't look particularly strong, but she's very tall, 18 and has 50 pounds on me. I don't struggle. Struggling will just make my death more violent and slow. Finnick… my mother… they're watching. A single tear slips down my face but I restrain myself, and she laughs at my moment of weakness. I pray that Dorien has had the sense to grab our supplies and run. I don't want him to die too, not from this girl. Traces of the sunset are still visible, and I'm content that I'll at least have that as my last view of this world. I glance at my wedding ring and charm bracelet, and as I think of my family and Finnick, I smile.

She rummages through her back-pack and pulls out an axe. As she raises it, I close my eyes..

Finnick POV

"No. No." I start to cry. Tears stream down my face. That bitch from 9 has Annie pinned down, and when Annie let loose one single tear she started to laugh. Mags cradles me, and I let all my tears fall onto her shoulder. Annie's dying. The girl I love is dying. I never knew it would feel like this.. I never knew it would feel like my heart was cut open, I never knew it would feel like my body was being ripped into a million pieces. I don't care if I'm making a scene. I really don't. Annie…

"Finnick." Mags gasp's and shakes me. I peer at the screen. The girl from 9 had her axe raised, and was teasing Annie. I could tell Annie had already accepted her death, and I knew the content look on her face was because she was thinking of me. And then I realize.. the girl from 9 didn't know Annie had an ally. The moment she heard someone, she ran into the clearing and tackled the first person she saw. Dorien had immediately hid behind a tree, and had been watching the scene with horror. Then he realized he had a knife.. and he knew how to use it. He crept forward a few feet, quietly as he could manage, and was now behind the girl. His hands shook, and he hesitated a second before driving his knife into the girl's spine. Annie leaped up and managed to avoid being crushed by the girl. 9's cannon rang out a second later.

I collapsed into Mags' arms. I was sobbing, tears of relief. I can hear other mentors voicing their disproval and curiosity, and Mags' loyally stands up for me. "He's so young.. not quite used to the idea of his tributes dying." All the mentors take this without questions and resume watching.

I finally compose myself and continue sitting in my chair with no complaints. I'm overjoyed, but a voice at the back of my head reminds me that this will happen again. Maybe next time there will be nobody to save her..

Annie POV

I leap away from the corpse of the girl that had been trying to kill me a few minutes earlier. I nab her back-pack and axe, and even though she just tried to kill me, I feel sorry for her. She has a family and she was trying to get home, just like I am. I gently lift Dorien's knife from her body, retrieve mine and close her pretty amber eyes for the last time. I mouth a 'sorry' to her corpse, and wish I could say the same to her family. Then my attention turns to Dorien. "Dorien!" I hug him and kiss him on the cheek. "You saved my life.." My eyes shine with tears. "Thank you so much." He hugs me back and blushes. "It was no problem." I can tell he's upset over killing that girl. "You had to. She's in heaven now. She understands," I whisper. I feel just as sickened having seen a teenager die, but I have to remain strong for the both of us. We settle into our cave. Inside the girl's bag is a pair of night-vision glasses, a sleeping bag, and a large canteen of water. The water seems to be un-tampered with, so both of us take large sips. I spare a small bit of it to wash the blood off of Dorien's knife. The anthem plays, and in the sky are the faces of the District 3 girl, the District 7 boy and the girl Dorien killed. I bow my head in remembrance as the music plays, and give myself a moment to mourn for those poor dead who were just like me.

Both of us eat a slice of bread each, and then we climb into the sleeping bag. It's not awkward between us; I can tell Dorien doesn't have a crush on me. I know I remind him of his sister. I'm a replacement for her; I offer him the support and kindness she did before her death. I'm also kind of like the mother figure he's sorely lacked in the past few years. I stroke his hair and he snuggles up to my chest. In the silence and peace of the night, it's hard to believe we're in the Hunger Games. After I'm sure Dorien is asleep, I slip out of the sleeping bag to keep watch. I arm myself with an axe and a knife just in case, though I hope with all my heart the Gamemakers will let us have a peaceful night in exchange for nine's death. As I think of the dead, I realize we're already into the final 8. I shiver. The final 8 is when it's time for bloody battles, game-maker traps and mutts. If I don't win, then Dorien must. His family has already lost a daughter, they shouldn't lose a son too.

I allow some tears to fall, and I don't care if I look weak or emotional. My charm bracelet and wedding ring are the only things that give me strength. And Finnick.. I softly blow a kiss to the cameras. Those in the Capitol will think it's for them, mentors and the Districts will think I have a boyfriend back home. But Finnick will know it's for him. For the rest of the night, I keep my guard up for trouble but none comes. When dawn arrives, I gently wake Dorien. He nods and takes his place as guard. Sleep almost immediately takes me, and I know in an instant that my dreams will be of Finnick..


	13. Chapter 13

[Warning.. scenes in Annie's POV are… graphic and extreme.]

Finnick POV

Annie and Dorien have made it to the final eight. Today interviews will be conducted. I miss Annie.. and it's horrible to watch her in the arena. I wish I could see her, in real life, just one more time. Kiss her again. Remind her how much I love her. She blew me a kiss this morning and my longing and anger threatened to over-power me.. I stare at my wedding ring. What would people think if they knew that Finnick Odair's fiancée was in the Hunger Games? I can imagine the shock of the Capitol, the sadness of the Districts. I wouldn't have to sell my body anymore, that's for sure. Over the past few days, Annie and Dorien have gained hundreds of thousands of dollars in sponsor points. It's tempting to send Annie a small gift, but I know I should save the money so if she ever needs medicine she can get it. I look down at myself in disgust… I'm not proud of what it took to gain all that sponsor money. Some people contributed because of Dorien's unexpected heroism and shocking kill, some because of Annie's beauty and unwillingness to bow, but mainly people were… convinced by me. I apparently have thousands of 'lovers' in the Capitol, those who think I actually care about them. Those who think I'm not using them.

Mags and I are lead to our interview spot. Mine, as usual, is first. I'm lead into a large room, chock-full of cameras and reporters. The interviewer is female. Her hair is orange and permed, and she's wearing a see-through white dress that completely exposes her chest. She's tattooed and her eyes are an unnatural neon green, to match her dyed lips and tongue. She's ugly and too-perky. I suppress a sigh and plop down on the plush couch, mentally preparing myself for the questions that I don't want to answer.

The interview was long. I gushed about how amazing my tributes are; and tried my best to convince people to sponsor them. I was asked about Annie's ring, my ring, and I made up charming, smooth lies. Annie has a boyfriend back home. My ring is in remembrance of my family, those who were killed in a … boating accident. Mainly, though, the interview revolved around me. While I was interviewed for about an hour, they only keep Mags for 10 minutes and then throw her out. Mags and I are allowed to watch a portion of the family interviews before going back to the tribute interview. We curl up on the couch and I sigh as I watch them.

They must've forced Annie's father back from the sea only recently; because he looks shocked and sad and surprised. His eyes are still red. Her mother's not there. Her father is asked about Annie's talents and her alliance with Dorien and, of course, the ring. He improvises, and you can clearly see he's bewildered.. he hasn't seen any of the Games. Dorien's father and mother are both solemn, anger and fire in their eyes. They've already lost a daughter, they don't want to lose a son too.. but they will. Only a few questions are dedicated to Dorien, the rest are to his sister.

His sister was the second year I mentored. She always talked about Dorien, not to the cameras but to the other mentor and I. She adored him, and she'd be rolling over in her grave if she knew Dorien was in the Games. She was beautiful, sponsor money was bountiful, and I believed she was going to win. But another tribute got lucky and managed to one-up her.

I have no time to wonder or worry about Annie's mother when officials swoop in to take me back to the tribute room. Nothing is going on. Annie and Dorien are searching listlessly for water, and as usual my heart does a somersault when I see Annie suffering. I go to our sponsor account and am shocked by the amount. It's massive. I can certainly afford to send her some. I want to be unreasonably generous, but I restrain myself and send them one canteen. Annie's face lights up as the small silver parachute floats toward her, and she blows kisses toward the camera. I smile and wish she could see me returning the kisses.

There are only a few mentors left in the room. Those with dead tributes have left; and the atmosphere is tense. The final eight is the most bloody part of the arena. Not much has happened so far. As I stare at the screen, I can't shake the feeling that something is going to happen. Something is going to happen soon…

Annie POV

[Be warned. The scenes in this are graphic .. I think they're really necessary to Annie's character, as much as it pained me to write them.]

Dorien and I walk, with somewhat of a spring in our step. We're trying to find more water. We just finished up nine's canteen, and even though we're hydrated now, it's vital we find more. I'm carrying my back-pack, an axe, and a knife, while Dorien has nine's back-pack and his knife. We're anticipating a battle, and the only plan we have for one is to make sure we have weapons handy at all times.. well, that and making sure we're ready to sprint away at a second's notice. I mention to Dorien the streams on the mountain. As I go on about somehow finding a back-way to them, he gives me an odd look. "I don't think that's a mountain. It's a volcano of some sort, I'm not sure if there's lava in it," My eyes widen. "How do you know?" He tells me how it's shaped like a volcano; and it seems to have the setting of one. He blushes when I ask him how he knows so much about volcanoes, he simply insists that he's seen it in a book.

We go as far as we can, and it's exhausting. It's clear there's no back-way to the volcanoes, and though it's incredibly risky to sneak past Career base, it's discouraging to admit defeat when we've come so far. We're both upset and sad when a streak of silver lights up the sky. Water! Finnick sent us water! I blow adoring kisses to the sky, to my lover. Dorien and I each have a few sips of the canteen, and both of us are energetic again in no time. We each feel that we're deserving of some food, so we pool together the small amount we have. We have only two slices of bread – it's hard, but I give Dorien both slices. He seems hungrier than I feel, and he certainly deserves it. The anthem plays, but there are no faces in the sky tonight. It immediately tenses both of us up, and we're on our guard. The Capitol is getting bored. And we must pay.

"Annie, you should really go to bed. You haven't slept much..," He's right. My eyelids are drooping, and I've been yawning non-stop for half an hour. We hug, to comfort ourselves. "Annie, thanks.. you're.. so kind. Anyone else would've ditched me by now.. you remind me of my sister, or of my mom." He leans his head against my chest and I stroke his hair. "Dorien, get this right. I will not abandon you until I die," He looks happy and shocked. "Keep watch, okay? If you get tired, wake me up." I clutch a knife to my chest, as ridiculous as it is to sleep armed with a weapon. I fall into a dreamless, peaceful sleep. It feels like I've only slept for minutes when someone is waking me up. I want to resist, but I know it's urgent. Dorien's worried green eyes flash into my plate of vision. "Careers," He whispers. I can hear them. They're loud, and they've almost found us. We can't run now. We have to stay here.. I leap up from my sleeping bag and clutch my knife and the axe. I try my best to look threatening, but I have a feeling I'm failing miserably. Dorien holds his knife and looks brave. I kick our supplies out of the way and know there's no way we can keep them or afford to carry them. The Careers strut into our clearing, and as they see us, their eyes light up like they won the jackpot. "Who wants two more kills added to their kill list?" They all bicker good naturedly and chime out with a 'me'. I hate their selfishness, their indifference to taking a human life. I know I'm probably going to die by one of them and I don't care. All I know is that hopefully I'll be taking down one of them with me… preferably that witch from District 1.

Then I realize.. Dorien. How can I protect him and myself? I can't. If I die, so does he. That really messes up my go-down-fighting plan, doesn't it? I know what I have to do. I'll distract them.. while he runs. "Dorien, RUN!" I shriek. That's all it takes for the battle to begin. All the Careers advance on me, but Dorien doesn't run. I want to yell again, but that's when I realize there's an axe flying my way. The District 1 girl is grinning at me, but I'm frozen in place. My legs are jelly. I can't move. I want for the impact. I want for the darkness. It doesn't come.

It happens in slow motion. Dorien whispers to me, "It's easier this way. The one person I love the most is gone. I'll be with her now. You still have someone to live for. Bye, Annie," I hear a thud and a pained cry and it's over. Dorien's head rolls to the ground and lays there. The axe decapitated him. The Careers are frozen. Even they're shocked that they took down a helpless twelve year old, they're horrified that his head lays on the ground. They watch me, wait for my reaction, and even the District 1 girl's expression is that of surprise. I see his head. What was once a smiling, happy child is now a grotesque mask of suffering and extreme pain. He was only twelve. He never had love; apart from me. He hadn't _lived_. He was my friend..

That's when I go insane. My anger keeps me from thinking straight, as does my sadness, and my thirst for revenge. I pick up the axe that ended Dorien's life and shove it just as easily into the District 1 boy's chest. His cannon booms a second later. By now the Careers are prepared, but I can tell they hadn't expected this in a million years. They're afraid of the manic look in my eyes. The District 2 boy is strong, but I make it look like I'm going for District 1 and carelessly shove a knife in his chest. It takes him a minute to bleed out, and then he's gone too. The District 2 girl is about to launch one of her knives at me when I punch her in the temple and knock her out. I jump on the District 1 girl, and though she's stronger than me, I pin her down for a few minutes. I claw her face as viciously as I can, the rest of my weapons lodged in the internal organs of the other Careers. Her face is a bloody mess and she manages to push me off, and though I expect a fight, she runs away screaming. I want to pursue her, but I don't bother. She'll come back, sooner or later.

I stare at the scene. Dorien's head.. his blonde hair tousled. His face crimson with blood. His green eyes lacking the light that once made him so friendly. I begin to sob, and then turn away. I can't bear to look anymore, so I glance at the Careers I killed. The girl is still knocked out cold, and I take Dorien's knife and slit her throat. I'm covered in blood, and so are they. These… these.. _children_ look so innocent in death. What did they do to deserve this? Why did they do to deserve the wrath of my fury? They train and kill because they have to. They're cold-blooded killers, but underneath, they're just kids. Kids who were made this way because of the Hunger Games.

I retrieve all my weapons and stare at the scene. How could I have done this? How could I have killed them all? The District 1 boy's sapphire eyes are open and lifeless. The ugly wound in his chest is still seeping blood. The District 2 boy, his mouth opened in pleading. His face still in an expression of terror. The District 2 girl. Once so pretty, her hair and face is soaked in blood. And Dorien… his head, detached from his body, lies in the ugly blood-stained grass.

That's the final straw. Dorien. Once my ally, the one I trusted with my life, now… this. I start to scream and tear at my hair and cry. I run as fast as I can, clutching the axe and Dorien's knife in my hand. I finally collapse, and start to sob. I should've cleaned him up. I should've cleaned the Careers up. I should have made them look like they were sleeping children. Now, my last image of Dorien will be his bloody head, his lifeless eyes.

I start to vomit and finally black out. My dreams are of the disgusting scene.. Dorien is fine, and this time it's me who cuts his head off. I picture a horrified Finnick and Mags, disgusted at my actions. I picture my Mother, finally driven off the deep end by my unthinkable killing spree. I picture my community, Panem, viewing me as a horrifying psycho. How could I have killed three people?

_I'm a murderer._

I sleep, wake up for short periods, and sleep more. I don't arouse myself, I simply lay on the ground clutching my weapons. None of my sleep is peaceful or restful. I have horrible nightmares and awake as exhausted as I was when I gave in to the blackness. I don't know how long it's been. Sometimes I dream of Finnick, and our engagement. Does he still love me? Or does he know I'm too far gone? I know it's hopeless to think he still cares even a bit for me. Who could love a monster of my level? I glance at my wedding ring, and though I know I should probably take it off my charm bracelet, I can't bring myself to. I know I have to get up eventually. Maybe my brutal, exciting killing spree is keeping the head Gamemaker from murdering me. I don't know.

I hope the District 1 girl finds me soon. As impossible as I would've found this a week ago, I find now that I would welcome death with open arms.


	14. Chapter 14

Finnick POV

One second, I was praying Annie would survive the fight with the Careers. I saw the axe flying towards her face, and my breathing slowed, my heart pumped rapidly. And then Dorien was dead, his head chopped clean off. I liked him. But I didn't really care about him – Annie filled every available place in my heart, my brain. He took an axe for her, he sacrificed his life for hers. And for that, I fucking owed him _a lot_. I hoped he was in a better place – his death was painful, but it was quick. We all heard his short speech about his sister, and that brought tears to even the District 1's mentor's eyes.

None of us were quite sure what would happen next. Even the Careers seemed shell-shocked by the turn of events, none of them had expected such an undying act of loyalty. I didn't know what Annie would do. I expected her to run while the Careers were distracted and hope for the best.. but I guess I under-estimated how attached she became to the kid that saved her life. It makes sense now – his past was horrible, she was like another older sister to him, he saved her life.. twice. They bonded over the Games. He knew her deepest, darkest secret.. me.

She went psychotic on the Careers. She began to attack them, and I could hardly watch. What are the chances of a smart, but mainly untrained girl beating three massive Careers? I was wrong. All four were unprepared for her attack, they assumed she would get her butt away after her ally's death. She stabbed the boy from 1, used simple trickery to kill the boy from 2, and knocked out the girl from 2 with a punch to the head and later slit her throat. She jumped on the girl from one and clawed her face as roughly as she could manage. As I glance at the small section of the screen dedicated to one, puffy pink tissue replaces the tanned skin that was formerly there, despite treatment from the best medicine. It'll scar, and it'll certainly take the Capitol more than three days to heal it if she is to win.

Annie.. I've avoided thinking about her. She's been faring horribly. Everyone knows what violent nightmares she's been having. All of Panem has watched her shriek. Dorien's name, followed by, "He doesn't love you anymore, you disgusting monster..,". I wish I could comfort her. I want to be transported to the arena. Even if it means me facing another Hunger Games, or dying at the hands of that scarred Career (though I could beat her in a fight any day), I want to be there with Annie. She's been lying on the grassy forest floor for a day now, but the Gamemakers are cutting her slack. Everyone is impressed, in the districts and the Capitol, that a girl with such a low training score, a girl that was discounted, killed three Careers and gravely wounded another at one go. But there are only four tributes left, and I know it won't be long before the final battle is to be held. My eyes widen as Annie wakes up and slowly staggers up. She glances at her wedding ring, bites her lip and some tears begin to fall out of her eyes. She hesitantly blows a kiss to the cameras, and my heart flutters.

_She has to win_. I wouldn't care if she killed every damn tribute in the arena, I'd still love her. But I can tell something's not right as she begins to get the feeling in her legs again. Her eyes are distant, cloudy. She's emotionless, and I can tell there's a big fight underneath the surface to keep that act up. I push a few buttons and send a canteen of water and food her way. I'll try to send her more before the inevitable final battle, as soon as I figure out what she needs. A smile lights up her face as she sees her gifts. But after she finishes most of the food and water, she seems to realize what's about to happen.

She'll have to fight. She'll have to kill. Again. She grips a knife and leans against a tree, breathing slowly. She begins to travel, conveniently heading in the direction of District 1. Before she can reach 1, a final battle between the other tributes left, the District 6 boy and the District 11 girl, ensue. I know it'll be a lengthy fight as both are strong and armed, and I realize I must have less than an hour before the Games are over. I frantically get a taxi to Snow's mansion and I knock at his door.

A servant allows me in and can tell by my tone of voice that it can't wait. I'm immediately allowed into Snow's … rose garden. He stands, his back stiff, and to me. I immediately fall to my knees. I don't want to degrade myself, but I will do _whatever_ it takes. "Mr. Odair, you're here later than I thought you would be." He smiles evilly, knowingly, at me. "Please, you have to let her win. I love her. Without her I am nothing. I won't function anymore. I won't be normal. I won't be charming Finnick, I'll be deranged Finnick," My eyes silently plead with him. "The Capitol likes her. They think she's pretty, and they think it's amazing that she beat three Careers and got rid of one's pretty face in 15 minutes.. and the District 1 girl, if she wins, it'll take weeks for the scars to be fixed. I swear.. I'll take on double the amount of… clients." It's low of me to bribe Snow. But Annie had almost won on her own… I wasn't doing her any favors. She wasn't weak. My words were true. Snow didn't like to admit victors had any logic, but by now Annie was a crowd favorite… and she was certainly the most attractive tribute left. "It'd be so easy to kill her," He sighs longingly. "But you've always been my favorite, Mr. Odair. The girl could've won on her own, but I know you're not taking any chances.. you're lucky you bring a modest amount of wealth and publicity to these Games and I. But cross me and Ms. Cresta… or should I say Mrs. Odair? Won't be so lucky." He licks his blood-covered lips and shoos me away.

I glance at my wedding ring and silently cry tears of relief and joy. Annie.. was.. going to win. We could spend the rest of our lives together. We could have a child. We could swim in our spot together. We could plan a wedding.. a secret one, maybe, but a wedding all the same. Somehow, the Gods had ruled in my favor. Annie was going to be a victor. I could kiss her, I could hold her again. She might not be the same after the Games; but she's still the Annie I loved. After this, we'd live together in either one of our Victor's Village homes. We'd have to be careful, secretive but it'd still work. The girl I loved was going to live. In no time, I was back to the tribute room. I could hardly keep the smile off my face. I, coldly and horribly, didn't care about District 1's death as long as Annie lived. 6 and 11 finished each other off, one died because of a knife wound and the other because of poison. I didn't know how the Gamemakers were planning to kill One off, but I truly didn't care.

I was expecting a quick death and a quick crowning of a victor when suddenly a massive, ear-shattering explosion was heard. Suddenly, a wave of bright blue water descended upon the screen.


	15. Chapter 15

**The story's not done yet! In case anyone is reading, I'll certainly be writing more chapters, about the future and such. I'm not sure how far I'll go, but I really am enjoying writing this story. (: But yes.. I love writing about romance so it'll probably focus on Annie and Finnick's relationship and the rebellion.**

Annie POV

I'm traveling through the seemingly never-ending forest when two cannons go off. Did the district 1 girl get them? I shiver as I realize we're down to the final two. I'll have to fight her. A week ago, I never would've imagined this. I thought I'd die before the final ten or so, and if not I thought I'd make that happen after Dorien's death. But now I'm holding on because of Finnick. I don't know if he still loves me, but I still love him. It'd be so easy for him to let go of me, but it's not the same for me.. I allow myself to imagine winning. Is it really worth winning, without Finnick? I know he killed in his Games but I don't know if he'll be able to cope with the fact that I killed almost effortlessly. That's not me… it was in the heat of the movement. But if he thinks otherwise…

Suddenly, the memories hit me. I clutch my head and wince, cursing internally. This has been happening ever since I finally got up from my constant nightmares. One moment I'll be fine, and the next moment Dorien's lifeless body will fill my head. Other times, it's the pretty District 2 girl. Or the District 9 girl, a knife wedged in her spine. Or the… I shake myself and continue moving. I'm moving slowly, making my life last as long as I can, when the loudest noise I have ever heard in my life fills my brain. It sounds like a clap of thunder over the ocean, but multiplied by a hundred. No, multiplied by a thousand. A rushing, loud burst follows. What is that? It sounds vaguely familiar.. but yet..

Water. It sounds like the ocean. My scrambled brain finally puts two and two together. The volcano. It must have erupted. It wasn't filled with lava, thankfully. It was filled with water. Water! My weapon. The one thing I knew better than anyone else. The one thing I could not be beaten in. Suddenly, a massive wave explodes on me. I'm not sure if even I can handle such rough water. Trees are coming down all around me, and I can see rocks and bushes and animals floating past me. I throw off most of my clothes besides a tank top and rip off the lower part of my worn, already torn pants. The less weight, the more of a chance you have in the water. The water is familiar to me, and soon there is nothing but me in the waves. I'm swimming perfectly, avoiding objects tearing past me skillfully. I'm cut a few times but the water helps to numb any stinging pain. I wonder how District 1 is faring, and I hope she's already drowned. It'd be easy to miss a cannon in this…

But I realize if she were dead then I wouldn't be swimming anymore and I'd already be crowned victor. Hopefully this is the end. Whether she dies or I die, it'd be cruel to lock us into a fight while both of us have surely lost our weapons due to the flood; and it wouldn't be an entertaining fight anyway, if she's as soaked and as exhausted as I am. Though I love the water, I'm about to give up and just let the blue waves overcome me when I see a bit of salvation. A tree. It's tall and not quite knocked over nor submerged from the flood. I push myself as furiously as I can manage, and as I'm about to float past, grab one of the branches. This is the only tree in sight, and if I had missed it, I'd surely be already dead. I wonder, has the District 1 girl found a spot above water, or a tree like I have?

But I'm proven wrong as a flash of blonde hurtles my way. Her face is blue, and she's barely above water. She reaches the branch, and lifts a shaky hand up. Her face is horrible scarred, and blood stains the water where she floats. She's wounded. She's asking for my help. For my mercy. As I glance at her, I make the hardest decision I've ever made in my life. I think of Dorien's untimely end, I think of Finnick and I. I think of the life I deserve. The life she deserves. But I will not give up Finnick for this girl, this girl I don't even know. This girl that killed Dorien and many others. I've already won. I can't imagine dying now. "I'm so sorry," I mutter, and all hope leaves her eyes. I know her face will haunt me for the rest of my life. But I gently push her fingers off, and watch as a few feet away her injured body falls under water. Her last breaths are futile wheezes, and there's only a few seconds before lack of oxygen takes her life. A cannon rings out, and the words I thought I'd never hear ring out.

"_I present to you Annie Cresta, victor of the 70__th__ annual Hunger Games!"_

I start to cry, tears of sadness and relief. As long as I live, I will never forget the other 23. I will make sure they always reside deep in my heart … especially Dorien. They died so I could win. They were young, and all of them had their lives ahead of them. They didn't deserve to die this way. As the hover-craft comes to gather me, I take one last glance at the arena that will forever hold part of my soul. Could it have only been a few days ago that Dorien and I were discussing strategy and our tokens? I gasp as I realize I've forgotten the token. I slipped it from him before I fled… the scene. I hopefully search for something in my soaked back-pocket, and find it. Dorien's token. I'm so overwhelmingly glad that I have this little piece of him, this little piece of his sister. I slip it around my wrist, unclip my charm bracelet and slide my wedding ring onto my finger. As I'm lifted, I take as many mental shots as I can of the arena. It's shockingly sad how badly I want to hold onto a place that was hell for me. I turn away from the arena and suddenly I'm engulfed into Capitol employees. A syringe is stuffed into my arm, and my thoughts are of Finnick before I black out.

I wake up. I think I'm allowed to go, as no white-masked people poke a needle into my arm and no tubes are running out of my body. There's a full-size mirror in my room, and I examine myself in it. Thankfully, nothing has really been changed. My hair, skin, and eyes look incredibly shiny and flawless; but it's nothing I can take pride in as it was done by fancy Capitol doctors. I'm not surgically altered, which is a shock. Some past victors have been altered so extremely that they look like different people, and it has never went over well with the Districts. Suddenly, everything comes rushing back to me. I'm a _victor_. I'm alive. I'm free.. for the rest of my life. Finnick and I will be together for the rest of our lives if he still… wants to be with me. A wave of memories suddenly floods me and I clutch my abdomen and cry out. District 1. I could've saved her.. but I killed her so I could win… I remember her blue eyes suddenly becoming blank and horrified as she realized she was dead. I wasn't saving her..

The rush of memories moves on and I bitterly realize that though the Capitol may fix any physical flaws you have, there's absolutely nothing they can do about your mental flaws. I'll have to live with this.. this pain. I step into the hallway and hesitantly head down it's long stretch. I'm thinking I'll have to go back to my room and wait when a door opens. It's Finnick. His eyes widen and we head towards each other, slowly. Before he can say anything, I interrupt. "Finnick, if you need some space.. I understand," I mutter, trying to hide my building emotions. I expect him to agree, to pat me on the back, say congratulations, and leave. But he scoops me up in his arms and lifts me up off the ground. "Are you crazy? I love you. _Nothing_ will change that," We kiss and I start to cry, tears unmasking my relief, pain and uncertainty. He strokes my hair, choking up himself. "Annie… I know. I know. It's okay, now we both understand," His eyes are sad but we continue to embrace. I know both of us are thinking of our Games, those other 23 that died. Some of which we killed.

"Whatever happens, remember that I will _always_ be there to guide you through it," Finnick murmurs, I agree, saying the same thing. As we walk down the hallway, he takes his hand in mine, and we grip each other as tightly as possible. Both of us are wearing our wedding rings, and we share a secret smile. I'm also wearing my mother's bracelet and Dorien's token.

My life will surely be filled with suffering, pain, and hardship. Always acting pretty and unbothered in front of the cameras. Acting like I don't care about the 23 that died so I didn't. Acting like no memories haunt me. But as the warmth of Finnick's hand tingles through my body, I know I'll never be alone. And it makes being a victor just a bit easier.


	16. Chapter 16

Finnick POV

Annie won. She was alive. Never in my dreams had I dared to imagine. Both of us were well, and we'd be spending the rest of our lives together. Both of us had pain, but together we could manage it. We could get married. We could have kids.. it seemed unreal. I'm settled down for her interview, cameras flashing at my face. Finnick Odair has mentored his first winner. I grinned and waved for the Cameras. But soon the focus was back on Annie, and everyone was quiet as her interview started. Everyone was curious about this girl. She wasn't a Career, but she could kill. She cared enough about her ally to exact cold, hard revenge for him. She wore a mysterious ring and was constantly blowing kisses to the camera. People didn't know her. Yet, they wanted to.

Her victory interview dress is almost an exact copy of her regular interview dress. Only now it's slightly longer, more modest and innocent. Her make-up is down played and she truly looks beautiful. She's wearing our ring, only now it's on her finger, not stuck on her charm bracelet. She's also wearing Dorien's token. I anticipate her interview, and dread the recaps. I remember my own recaps.. there I was, some fourteen year old kid, and I was taunted with the kids I killed. I was so angry about it, I can remember destroying a few expensive Capitol things on my way out. I've matured since then.. but in a way I'll always be that fourteen year old, shocked and appalled at what I've done.

First the recaps are shown. It mainly focuses around Dorien and Annie's relationship, and the moments leading to Dorien's death. I can see Annie pale as Dorien's death and the footage of her coldly wiping out the Careers is shown, and she winces as the footage lingers at District 1's death. They display her as a brutal, uncaring killer and I can tell it's hard for her to cope with it. I'd love to punch whatever Capitol idiot is responsible for this; but I keep the forced smile on my face. Then comes time for the interview. Caesar has seen how bothered Annie is, and he tries to be as kind and gentle as he can. He praises her for being so kind to Dorien, and asks her how she feels about what she did to the Careers. She answers slowly, unsurely, and shakily. It's not fair – she shouldn't have had had to live through the Hunger Games. She should've never been picked. I know her pain, and knowing someone I love is in as much agony as I once was is like injecting fire into my veins.

It's almost time for the interview to end, and Caesar is about to ask the question almost everyone is longing to hear an answer for. What was it like to win? What were you thinking when you let go of the District 1 girl? But before he can get to that point, Annie suddenly shrieks and starts to clutch her head. People mainly are shocked into silence; myself included. The memories… they're getting to her. She comes back to normal a few seconds later, and the look in her eyes is distant and tortured. She runs off the stage, the horrified look still present on her face. Caesar takes two seconds to react before becoming cheerful again. "Well, that was Annie Cresta, victor of the 70th Hunger Games!" I walk away from the group of victors sooner than I should have, and head towards the District 4 floor. I find Annie in her room, crying.

I lay down beside her and hug her. Her muffled sobs eventually stop and she only sighs. "Finnick, everyone thinks I'm insane," She says dully. "It's just the memories.. sometimes they flood me so forcefully. I remember every detail from the arena. I've tried to block it, but it's truly impossible," I know how she feels. We hold hands. She recounts all her fears to me, and I never once zone out. I only listen. She talks about the memories that haunt her most. Dorien, the District 1 girl. Her killing spree. Her memories remind me of my own, and I hold her tightly. "I never gave you enough credit, Finnick. It's hard to know what the Games are really like until you live them. The ring was probably the only thing that kept me alive, even when I thought I had lost you," She says. I sigh and know she doesn't need to be reassured of my love for her. I twine my fingers in hers as she falls asleep, and eventually her breathing becomes quieter and even.

We were a couple before. We loved each other unconditionally, of course. But now it's different. We still love each other, but it's not just that… Now we absolutely need each other, too. We lean on each other. We help each other cope with the pain. We're both victors of the Hunger Games, we both understand the certain hurt the Games causes. Now it's not just her supporting and comforting me, it's both of us caring for one another.

I never let go of Annie as sleep slowly takes me, too.


	17. Chapter 17

Annie POV

Eventually all the Capitol parties and bashes in my honor are over. I've trudged through gushing and complimenting every sponsor, and it's finally time to go. Back to District 4 and my family. Finnick, Mags and I board the train, and my heart is hollow as I realize that the last time I was on here was when Dorien was, too. I grip his token. He should've come back… I don't want to face his family, but I'll have to, eventually. The ride is long and Finnick and I sit together the whole way, staring out the windows. My heart leaps when I finally see the ocean. The last time I saw it, I was saying my goodbyes. Despite the somewhat downcast mood I still break out in a grin when I see the waves. I can't wait to swim in them again, can't wait to simply admire the beautiful color again.

We arrive in the port and as Finnick and I step off we're bombarded by reporters. I smile lightly and wave, and most yell questions having to do with my … madness. Finnick, Mags and I are quickly herded into limos and dropped off at the Victor's Village. I'm also certain it's illegal for photographers to enter, and that gives me some slight relief. Mags leaves, and oddly shoots Finnick a knowing look. I was given the key to my house earlier, and as I'm about to curiously enter Finnick pulls me into his house.

"Can't hurt for you to spend some time over here, can it?" His green eyes glimmer. After we're full out of the view of anyone else he picks me up and twirls me around. I gasp as I see his home. White candles and rose petals cover every surface. "I'm _so _glad you survived." He breathes. I laugh and swat at his hand. "Did I ever tell you how god-damn cheesy you are?" He grins, and winks at me. "Cheesy, but still charming, eh?"

"You're lucky I actually _love_ you." I tease. "How could anyone not love _me_?" He snorts. I stick out my tongue and we laugh again. "Well, what do you say.. Mrs. Odair?" I smile and don't squirm as he picks me up again. "Well, I say it's lucky you're so _awfully_ _charming_, Mr. Odair."

Life slowly becomes better. I still suffer from relapses into my dreamy state, but they improve. The memories aren't as painful and prominent now. The press leaves District Four alone, more interesting things to tend to until my victory tour. Finnick and I do everything we talked about the night before the Games together. We plant flowers, we spend afternoons at the beach and our 'spot'. My house remains empty and untouched, all my time spent in Finnick's, which I mainly consider mine now, anyway. We pick decorations for his house; obviously preferring to stick to beach and ocean related things. A beautiful framed picture of Dorien lies over our fire place, and whenever I'm not wearing his token I drape it over his picture. Finnick and I both have pictures of our arenas as we remember them painted.

Despite my insistence, my mother refuses to move into the Victor's Village. My father, as usual, is out at sea, and she's all alone now. All she asks is that I visit her as much as I can, and loyally keep true to her wishes. I finally gather up the courage to visit Dorien's family. Finnick wants to come with me, but I know it'd be better if I did it alone. I knock on the door, and his mother answers. She looks frail and sad, and I can't imagine having to recover from not one, but two children's deaths. "I'm sorry, " I say. I expect her to cry, or remain solemn, but she surprisingly smiles. "Both of my children were fighters. I'm glad that they made it so far; and I'm glad that Dorien died so honorably. They have each other, now, and they live in a world free of pain or suffering. That's the best I can wish for. When it's my time, I'll be with them," My expression is that of admiration. "I'm glad that it was you that won. You protected him and you did the best you could to keep him alive."

I pocket her example of strength and decide to save if for a time when I'll need it. As I come back home, I tell of Finnick of her reaction. "Honorable. Most can't manage that. I certainly wouldn't be able to," I hug him lightly and hesitate. "Finnick .. I want to go to the Graveyard." I can tell he doesn't want to either. He doesn't want to see the headstones of the tributes he mentored, his district partner. But we go. We cut some flowers from our garden and link hands as we walk towards it.

Rows and rows of tombstones dot the grave-yard. It's for tributes only, and it's horrifying to see the mass. The oldest range back to the first games, and they're dated from most recent in the front and oldest in the back. I almost panic when I realize Dorien's isn't in the row it should be. Wild thoughts cloud my mind, when Finnick softly calls my name. "Look." I'm not sure who buries the tributes, but I'd love to pay thanks to whoever does. Dorien's tombstone is placed next to his sister's. It's squeezed in and it barely fits, but it's endearing and meaningful all the same. Fresh flowers already rest at their graves, but Finnick and I still add one rose each. We also line flowers at Finnick's district partner's grave, and we each silently contribute roses to the old piles that lie in front of those he had mentored. It's a sad job, and by the time we're done we're mournful, but also more fulfilled. I hope all those dead realize that someone apart from their families know their deaths were injustice. I hope they all know they're missed. "Makes you really become grateful for what you have in life," Finnick whispers.

The next five or so months are filled with sunshine and happiness. Finnick and I spend all our time together, apart from the times he has to take short trips to the Capitol, for reasons I'd rather not imagine, though I know very well what they are. Each time he goes, he begs me to forgive him. It hurts me, but who am I to complain? It's probably saving my life and his. Each time he worries, I reassure him. "As long as I'm the only one that really matters." It sounds selfish and I'm ashamed of myself when I have to say it, but my biggest fear is that Finnick will be forced to .. or willingly .. fall in love with a Capitol woman and marry her. Of course, my worries are heinous and obscene, but it's only typical of people to worry about losing what they love most. I hate to see him suffer and I'm overwhelmed with guilt that Snow hasn't requested the same treatment for me. Apart from these occasional dark days, though, we spend all of our time freely and happily. We have fun, and try not to let memories tie us down. Finally it's time for the Victory Tour. I've been dreading it. What will I say to the families of the dead? Finnick has to leave early for the Capitol, and he promises to meet us for the big parties at the end. "Oh, Finnick.. I'm sorry. I'd give anything to take your place," I lean my head on his shoulder and he gently lifts my chin up. "If Snow ever… I'd kill him," His eyes burn with a hateful fire, and I place one of my fingers over his lips. "Camera's, remember?" I kiss him lightly and he smiles. "I love you," He says. "You already know what I'd say to that," I tease, my eyes bright. I squish him in a tight hug and we part.

Our train lurches forward, and Mags and I tensely wait. The victory tour.. It causes pain and sadness, for both the family and the victor. Seeing each tribute's family will be like re-living the arena.. the arena that will haunt me for so long…

I'm not quite sure how 'mad Annie' will cope.

The only districts that were hard and tinged with more venom than the others were 11, 9, 6, 2, and 1. I was lucky in the arena. For the most part I avoided conflict, hardship and other tributes. I won quickly. I never directly spoke with the 11 girl, nor did I once see her in the arena, but she was in the final four. She could've won – same with the district 6 boy. District 9 I dreaded for obvious reasons; Dorien, and you can argue that I, directly killed the female tribute. 2 and 1 … are horrifying. I basically went berserk on each of the tributes, and killed them all. I could've saved the District 1 girl, but I chose not to. I chose to let her die. Other districts regard me with a mix of admiration and pity. I'm a 'kind' victor. I'm not a Career. The fact that some obnoxious brute isn't here to sarcastically and crudely 'pay respects' to their dead children is a comfort in itself.

I take in all I can at the other districts. Most are full of dull-eyed, empty-looking people. Too skinny, young but with lines of sorrow and difficulty etched into their faces. Their hands rough and calloused from work. The hope and sparkle long gone from their seemingly colorless eyes. I'm horrified. Everyone knows that the non-Career Districts are poor; but when you live in a fairly fortunate District like my own you can't imagine the burden others face. All the families I see have faces rigid with sorrow and grief, and I try to comfort and thank them as sincerely as I can manage.

As much as Finnick and I have coached to get rid of my nightmares, my episodes, nothing has worked. Every so often, sometimes when I'm in the middle of a speech, the memories will threaten to over-power me. I've stopped showing the pain, but I can't control my trailing off or freezing. Each time this happens, I find myself facing the District with a blush. I'd love to say my condition is horrible and embarrassing – but when I got life, while others received death, is it really so bad? The feasts afterwards seem so ridiculous. They're painfully awkward. No one wants me in their district; they'd prefer one of their dead kids.

Finally, it's time to go the Capitol for the ultimate party. I could care less about the party; I want to see Finnick. I want to comfort him. I know what his few days have been like; and to think that had no one has been there for him is heart-wrenching. I look for him at the party, to no success. Just as I'm about to head into the bathroom, simply to get away from the too-perky Capitol people. I hear something in a supply closet across the hall from bathrooms. I make sure no one is watching before I quietly slip in. "Finnick?" The grown man, the one I can more or less call my husband, is crying. I've never really seen him cry … besides the few times he shed a few tears before and after my arena. His face is red, and he's slumped on the floor. I slide down next to him. "What's wrong?" I try my best to comfort him, stroking his back and gently kissing the tips of his fingers. "I told Snow I didn't want to .. sell myself anymore. That the Capitol could find a younger tribute," He continued. "It wasn't smart of me, it burst out. It's just … he knows I have you. He knows what we have together. He purposely manages to find me a massive amount of.. clients. It's cheating on you, and it's not right. It's disgusting .. they shouldn't own my body. He threatened to kill you and Mags, and make me a mentor every year for the rest of my life if I didn't continue." It's so utterly tempting to find Snow and tell him what I think of his 'selling' tributes… of his hurting Finnick.. but I know it'll only cause more tension or harm. "I wish I had died in the Hunger Games. I love you, but now I've exposed you to so much pain and suffering.. It's unbearable to think of you mentoring. It's harder than it looks," I stand up and promptly plop down onto Finnick's lap. "You have to understand.. you mean the world to me. Will a tyrant, desperate capitol women, and circumstances you can't control ruin that? Finnick.. I'd give _anything_ to free you. You can't blame yourself," I go on. "If you had died in the Hunger Games, I probably would've still gotten reaped and then died, because I wouldn't have had such an _amazing_ mentor." I take his hand, we help each other up. "Whatever pain we go through, we go through together. Our tributes dying, Snow's tyranny."

I can sense Finnick's relief, that glass of ice cold water after a day in the desert. Formerly just his lover, I'm also now someone who can understand every pain he's feeling. All the hurt and anger and sadness inside. We're in this together. No longer can I only nod and act like I understand when he talks about the Hunger Games.

Despite our seriousness, I smile when a slow song comes on. It's turned on so loud, we can clearly pick out every word. Though Finnick and I are both still in the cramped closet, I put my arms around his neck. He puts his hands around my waist, and we shuffle around clumsily, knocking down buckets and brooms in all our wrath. By the end of the song, we've slipped on the ground, and both of us are laughing uncontrollably. My dress is ripped, as is Finnick's suit. We quickly clean up the mess we made, and head back to the ball room as to not arouse suspicion. Before we go, Finnick whispers in my ear. "You know, Mrs. Odair, stumbling upon you was the best mistake I've ever made," I smile, and my heart flutters. "You took the words straight out of my mouth…,"


	18. 5 years later

Annie POV

It's been five years since I won my Games. Five years of hell. Mentoring. Each year since I won, there's been no break of Finnick and I mentoring. This year, it's the seventy-fifth Hunger Games. A quarter quell. Tonight, the card determining the outcome will be read. I'm not looking forward to it.. I could list all the possibilities, but instead I decide to ignore the concept of the Quarter Quell completely. Amongst the Capitol, I'm rumored to be completely insane, and it's even passed around that I live in a mental asylum. People find it cold of Snow to choose me as mentor each year, while others find it sweet. I know most view me as a loony freak, and while I'm adorable to some, I'm like vile to others. I've tried everything to kick the habit of my short black-outs. But they still come. The feeling of my memories controlling me is enough to drive me off the edge. But Finnick helps me hold on.

Finnick watches me as I leap out of our bed. We live together full-time now, and in all these years we haven't yet had our wedding, though neither of us have yet to take off our rings. It was simply too risky… Snow still has Finnick working in prostitution as much as he can. I want to help, but all I can do is hold him if he cries at night. We've both matured. It's been ten years since Finnick won his Games. We're not teenagers anymore. He's taller, his voice is deeper and more masculine, and he has grown into his muscles. It makes him even more attractive in the Capitol's eyes. I glance at my reflection in the mirror. I'm a bit taller, though not by much, and my body has turned into that of a woman's. Not that of a girl's. I'm slender, and developed. My face is still the same, apart from my hollow cheeks. My bright green eyes stare back at me, and my long black hair and bangs haven't been trimmed in years.

"Beautiful as always, Mrs. Odair," Finnick murmurs. I smile at his sweet term of endearment. Since it seems like it might be a while until we can officially get married, sometimes we use it to satisfy our longing. The spark between us hasn't died. Sometimes I feel like I'm the only thing that lights Finnick's eyes up, and I know for sure he's the only thing that puts a smile on my face. We've talked about having children .. but in the end, we decided it was for the best if a familiar-looking bronze haired child didn't suddenly belong to me. A shiver runs down my spine as Finnick still stares at me wordlessly. I can tell he wants a child. But the Capitol is forever crushing hopes and dreams…

I push out my anxiety and begin to brush my hair and begin another day. I slip on a dark navy-blue dress and my normal tennis shoes. I begin to pile on my jewelry: my mother's charm bracelet, Dorien's token, and my ring. "Annie, you don't know how grateful I am that you lived. That you got to come home with me. I'm sorry that I'm incompetent as a fiancé. You should be able to have children, and you shouldn't have to be afraid that someone from the Capitol will catch on to our relationship." His tone is choked and grave. "Thank you .. for not leaving me..yet," I immediately stared at him sternly. "This is like when I was in the Games. I thought you didn't love me because of who I was, because of what I did..," He nods grimly. "Finnick, you are the love of my life. I don't care if I have to make some sacrifices. Everyone does. I would never be able to live with another person; because you are the one that holds my heart. You are the one that makes me happy. We know _everything_ about each other," Before I know it, I'm blabbing. "I worry every day that you'll find someone prettier than me in the Capitol, or another victor, or…," He puts his finger to my mouth and kisses me. It's a long, lasting kiss. "So, I guess you and I are going to be together forever, then?" He says it truly, a hint of disbelief and happiness in his voice. "_Forever_, Mr. Odair."

Finnick POV

I finally force myself out of bed and leap down the stairs. I fall slightly short and tumble down the last few. "Finnick!" Annie starts to laugh and so do I. It's not unlike me to do stupid stunts to catch her attention, and I'd do anything to earn a laugh. I pick her up and twirl her around, like I always do. "Finnick Odair, unless you want your breakfast burned, put me down!" I kiss her cheek and sit down obediently. Annie and I have both changed so much … I guess I'm manly now. The boyish looks I once had have disappeared. But it only makes Capitol women want me more. Annie's … womanly. She has become more beautiful with age, and my love for her only grows as time goes on. We've been together for 7 or 8 years now, and we're stuck like glue. As many women as I have pining after me, she's the only one that appeals to me. She's the only one that I want. I've known her too long to adjust to anything else. Some people call her crazy. Considering I know her better than anyone .. she's not. The memories just hit her hard.. Dorien, and the girl she let drown so she could win. It's been five years, but she's still haunted.

I wish we could have the freedom to get married and have children. There's nothing I want more than a house-hold full of miniscule mixes of us. Annie would be a good mother. I would be a good father. But my prostitution calls for me to remain forever single. I have an image… and if I drop that, it'll get either me or the girl I love killed. We've considered having a child, where she would keep it a secret and not reveal who the Father was. But I suppose it'd be awfully suspicious if the kid ended up looking like me. I hate to disappoint her… She's never voiced her displeasure over my life-style. Over what I'm forced to be. She only offers me support.

We eat breakfast together and plan our day. Neither of us are looking forward to the Quarter Quell drawing tonight. But we're not planning on wasting the pretty day. We head towards the spot where we first met. But before we go, we turn into one of the only wooded places in our area of the District. It's a snarled, tangled, mess of branches and berries, and this is one of the only places I can be confident no cameras lie. I clutch her hands and stare into her eyes. "Katniss Everdeen… a rebellion is forming because of what she did with the berries." Annie doesn't look surprised but she seems unwilling to accept my words. "If we want to get married and live happily ever after, together, in this world.. if we want kids.. if want to get rid of the Hunger Games..we..," Annie's expression is desperate. "Finnick .. not yet .. not so soon. I can't let you risk it. Not yet. Snow will know and he'll kill both of us." She pleads with me, and how can I deny her? If her intuition is to keep her guard up, then… I will follow. She glances at me. "Finnick.. if it becomes more evident, more clear, that it won't fail, then…," She nods her assent.

I don't want any child of mine to suffer from the Hunger Games, and it's hard enough to see one of the only people I care about suffer. Any attempt I have at ending them, I will take. We ignore our tense conversation and spend our day similarly to how we spent our first. We play in the water, race each other, and splash each other. It's almost like it's 7 years ago and I start to wonder. What would I have thought then, if knew that that beautiful, shy girl got to be the one that I'd spend my life with? Annie and I had such a chance meeting, something that could've easily never happened. I remember to constantly thank whoever may be listening for what we have. As the sun sets, we lay against each other, just staring the beautiful array of colors displayed in sky. Nothing exists apart from us. Annie eventually falls asleep in my arms, and I gently wake her. "Time to watch the Quarter Quell card reading, Mrs. Odair," She yawns and it's clear she's not in the mood to get up any time soon. I figure it's dark enough for no one to see, and considering no one's outside anyway, I scoop up Annie. I take my time, gazing up at the stars as I walk. Eventually we arrive at the Victor's Village, and I knock on Mags' door. She smiles adoringly at us, especially when she sees Annie asleep in my arms. I gently prod Annie awake, and after a bit of protest she gives in. She opens her wide green eyes and seems confused. I point at the TV. There are only a few minutes until the card will be read. Annie sees how tense I am, and she strokes my cheek gently. I kiss her forehead and both of us glue our eyes to the screen.

He reads the card.

My mouth opens in shock, in disbelief. Mags looks sick.

But Annie.. she starts to scream and sob and launches herself onto the floor. She curls up into a ball and the tears stream silently down her face. This year's tributes will be reaped from the existing pool of victors. No matter how young or old. No matter how loved or loathed. There's only nine living District 4 victors. Annie, Mags, and another I don't take time to think about are the only female tributes. There's a 2/3 chance that one of the only two people I live for will be reaped. This is low, even for the Capitol. We're promised lives of luxury and peace after we win. We fight for freedom. But now that's being taken away from us?

Just hours ago, I was dreaming about my life with Annie. Thinking about how lucky and fortunate we had been. How wrong I was.. I knew our life was too good to be true. If Annie's going into the arena, I will not hesitate to go in with her and slaughter every possible tribute I can to spare her life. I'm stronger than I was when I was 14. I'm intimidating, I'm attractive. If I'm picked and Annie or Mags is not, I will do my best to win. Thinking of Annie's face would probably give me enough strength to conquer all of the Capitol.. I can't believe this. One of our greatest consultations is that we never have to face the arena again. This is unforgivable. We killed to win; we destroyed most of the good inside ourselves to win..

Mags and I gently move Annie to the couch and for the first time since Annie's Games I put my head on Mags' shoulder. "Finnick.. I'll be volunteering if Annie is picked," She says firmly. "I…," I want to protest, but I can't. Do I want to give up my mother figure for the love of my life? The choice is obvious. But I don't want Mags to die. Since luck has been our side far too long, I know she might.. But..

"Finnick, I'm old. I know you love me, but don't volunteer to save me. You have so much ahead of you. I do not. Annie doesn't deserve another Games, nor do you."

But there's no way Snow will be letting me off. Finnick Odair, in the Games, again? I come to the sick realization that most Capitol citizens would kill for that. _I'm going into the Games again._

I chuck my trident at the dummy and smile. Perfect shot.

The competition in the arena will be double. These aren't untrained children. These are winners, killers. All of them won. You don't win because you're an idiot. You win because you're strong, have talent with a weapon, or because you were smart enough to formulate a plan. Of course, many victors have changed. Some have grown old, and some abandoned their skills as soon as they left they arena. But all are still threats to me. Annie stares at me, her eyes empty. It's been a week since the card was read. I've taken action – I ordered a whole set of dummies and decided to finally unveil the trident that won me my Games. I stroke its jeweled handle. I haven't touched it in years, preferring instead to use unimportant ones for hobby. Annie hasn't quite adjusted to the idea of this Games yet.. I know the memories have overtaken her. She's been mumbling incoherently for days. I can kill 23 tributes for her, but fighting the monsters inside her head is something I cannot do..

"Finnick!" Annie suddenly shrieks and jumps up. She throws her hands around my waist. "You can't go back! You can't die!" She doesn't cry, but I can tell it requires a bit of effort. "Annie … maybe I won't get picked," But both of us know I will. I know Snow's attempting to send us in together; he'd love that. If it weren't for Mags' selfless promise, I'd be in the same state Annie was.. "I can beat all of them." As an example, I pick up my trident again, and even though I'm only using one hand, I can still land it perfectly. "Mrs. Odair, let's face it. The Capitol loves me. I'm wicked with a weapon, and if I managed to beat Careers when I was 14, I can do it now," Annie's grip tightens around me. Anyone else would be disgusted with my little speech; you can never be sure what will happen to you in the Games. But every point I have is … correct. I'm a favorite, and 18 year old Careers were nothing when it came to my 14 year old wrath. "I can win."

Annie POV

Today's the Reaping. I know I will not be going to the arena. Mags' will be volunteering for me. I know I'll be mentoring… Snow would practically faint from happiness at the idea of fragile little me personally watching Finnick die. "Oh, Finnick..," I don't get out of bed. Instead I curl closer to him. "Remember this day, five years ago?" He nods and I can tell he's thinking. If I had known this is what the future held… "Only one more week with you." There's always a chance Snow won't pick me to mentor, and that'd be unbearably cruel. But we both know he will; he'd prefer cold, hard pain over cruelty. Finnick and I have spent every moment possible in the last month together. Days at our spot, and hours spent discussing every last thing we can. We talk about our lives, our time together, our experience in the Games. We talk about the rebellion; talk about how this is the certain fuel it needs. We both agree to do what we can to throw down the Capitol.

"Finnick … maybe Snow won't pick you. Maybe…," He shakes his head. "I'll win." I want to believe it, but anything can happen in the Games. District 1 should've won in mine. "Finnick, I love you so much.. how can two people possibly go through so much pain and suffering?" We both smile slightly at my last words. We get dressed, and before we go Finnick kisses me gently. "One day, Annie, we'll be together. We'll have as many kids as we want, and I won't have to sell myself, and we can finally just …_ live_. No more Hunger Games. No more pain." I sigh as walk out the door. "One day."

We have to deliberately swerve away from each other and walk a good distance apart to the Town Square. Cameras are swarming the district. The roped-off area normally for tributes is pitifully small. All are already there when I arrive, including Finnick. He stares at me and I turn away. People from the district can't take their eyes off of me. They want to see if I'll have an outburst… Children surround our reaping pens. Some are smiling, a year free; those trained are glaring at the Cameras. Another year with awaited glory lost. There are only 3 female victors. Mags, I, and a forty-something year old with children. As arrogant as she is, she shouldn't be picked. Then again, none of us should… We had more, but in the past few years, one died from an overdose; one from illness, I suppose one even the Capitol couldn't cure; and one died from an 'accidental drowning'. So it's just us three.

I ignore our District escort's speech. She drawls on and on, and finally it's time to pick the … victor .. tribute. "Ladies first!" She beams and lunges her head in the big glass bowl. Only three small slips of paper lay on the bottom. "Annie Cresta!" I feel like I'm about to puke and I almost do as I hobble up to the stage. I'm hoping, hoping, hoping that I can make it up there without a relapse. But I'm not lucky. Memories pour into my head. Dorien's head.. District 1's transformation from beautiful to hideously scarred.. the deaths of those I mentored.. their screams… their blood.. I start to cry and I can't stop myself. I'm on live television, but yet the tears still flow. I vaguely hear a, "I volunteer!" and a name being called. But I'm still frozen in place. I feel someone lift me up and I'm slowly led back to the roped off area. As I'm put down, I snap out of it. Finnick stares at me, and I can tell he desperately wants to put his arms around me. But he can't. I want for the name to be called and then I realize it already has been.

Finnick walks to the stage coolly. He sends a smirk to the cameras. He links his hand with Mags and our escort gives her usual cheery word of luck.

As I see Finnick standing on the stage, my heart is torn in two. I want to scream, grab him, and I want us to run away. I want us to get away from the Capitol, the Games, the world.

I finally know how he felt all those years ago.


	19. Chapter 19

Finnick POV

I'm herded into the tribute train by Peacekeepers. Cameras flash away. We're not given good-byes. All of us victors know what could've happened; we had a month to settle our last affairs. Annie's pale as the train speeds away. Mags' simply stares out the window longingly, her face on the wide, blue ocean. I stare at the sea too. My life… it seems to speed away before my eyes as the ocean finally leaves us. I might win … but then again, I might not. Am I really repeating the emotions of 10 years ago? I had hope, but still vague fear; I wanted to never leave District 4. I wished the Hunger Games hadn't taken me victim. I knew, one way, I'd come out destroyed. Whether it be physically or mentally.. I also recall memories of my coming back. I was pained, depressed. But I was alive. I would see the ocean again. I would see my family again. Freedom was mine, forever … or so I thought. Make it 10 years instead.

Annie, not surprisingly, is our female mentor. I'm glad, but after her reaction at the Reaping, I don't know how well she'll be able to handle it. A guy who is in his late thirties, Sam, was picked as the male mentor. They were both thrust onto stage by Peace-Keepers a few minutes after the Reaping, and thrown onto the train like us. He keeps trying to hit on Annie, and seems not to notice my glares. Eventually he stops, though, as he realizes she's not doing much but staring emptily out the window. We all eat dinner quietly, glumly; not even our perky escort aims at conversation. It's finally time to watch recaps of the Reaping.

We all settle onto luxury couches and the wide screen automatically turns on. Annie sits close to me, our shoulders practically touching. It's not suggestive, it's caring. Our escort stares at us and only shakes her head slightly. By now she's figured out that Annie's more than just my 'toy', but thankfully she seems too loyal and affectionate of us to reveal it to anyone. Sam glares at us, and murmurs under his breathe. "Damn, the players always get the hottest ones. He's done every girl in Panem by now…," I want to punch him but instead I stare at the screen. In District 1, Cashmere and Gloss are called. They're both beautiful, and both killers. They haven't lost their lust for blood, nor their urge to win. Cashmere won a few years before me, Gloss a year after me. Cashmere loathes me; I've turned down her pitiful attempts to seduce me, and I murdered one of her best friends in my Games. She wants my blood.. They're almost as popular with the Capitol as I am, and I wouldn't be surprised if Snow had them in … occupations similar to mine. They're certain competition. From District 2 are Brutus and Enobaria. Brutus is still fairly young, 40 or so, and his name clearly matches his personality. He's all brawn, no brains. He smiles as he walks up to the stage, and I can tell he'd just adore re-living the glory of the Games. He wants to murder again. I'd love to stick a trident in his chest and teach him that he's not so unbeatable.. Enobaria is muscular. She's certainly not attractive, and reminds me of her district partner. They're both cold and want to watch the life slowly leave the eyes of the dying.. again. District 1 and 2 are obvious threats, as they are every year. I sigh. I want to kill the lot of them…

We watch our own Reapings, and Annie winces as she has to view her … fit. It certainly seems dramatic from the screen, and I know it only reinforces the concept of her mental fragility. I'm relieved when it seems like my helping her is only an act of a concerned friend, not that of a desperate lover. I'm glad that I appear strong and almost eager to be launched into the Games again.. I know it's almost certain that I'm considered something to worry about to other tributes. The next few districts don't stand out to me. Most of the tributes, or victors, are old and seem tired. They're in disbelief that they have to go through hell again. They just want it to be over… this wasn't promised to them. A life of freedom was. I don't want to have kill any of them… but I must. For Mags, Annie and I. Johanna Mason is called from District 7. I'm able to smile lightly as I see her picture on the screen. We're friends. We can laugh and smile together. We both share a deep hatred of the Capitol. She briefly and casually pursued me romantically, but I made it clear quickly that I wasn't interested. I didn't want to hurt her, but she's not dumb. She figured out eventually that I'm already taken.. I'm sure she's still curious by whom. It didn't put a damper on our relationship, though. We still first seek each other out when we arrive each year at the Capitol. She looks mean, and I briefly recall how she won her Games. She pretended to be fragile and clueless, made it to the final 8 or so, and slaughtered everyone with her axe. She's an amazing actress, but it won't work this time. I wonder, is our friendship thick enough to survive the Games? Can we be allies without betraying each other? It's different outside of the arena; we're free. But inside the arena, our lives are at stake. I think that can break even the strongest of bonds..

From District 12, come Katniss Everdeen and Peeta Mellark. She's wearing her Mockingjay pin, and remains solemn. Haymitch Abernathy is called also, but Peeta Mellark quickly takes his place.

Katniss Everdeen was the one who incited the rebellion. Threatening suicide, double-suicide, is something that has never been done in the Games by the victor. Other tributes have offed themselves, but it was quickly covered up and paved over by the Capitol. Even I was impressed, and Annie and I could only stare at the screen in disbelief as Katniss whipped out the berries. We had both admired her from the start; she volunteered for her little sister and had gotten an eleven in training. She was almost killed a few times in the arena, but was an amazing archer and made it through. Peeta was … in love with her. All the victors knew it was an act, something formulated for sponsors. They were convincing, however; and gained more sponsors than even the District 2 as the Games went on. People ate up the romance so much a 'rule change' was put forward by Snow. Two victors were allowed. It was unbelievable… so unlike the Capitol. Indeed, it was too good to be true. After they killed the District 2 boy their faces lit up, they were expecting to win. But they didn't. It was quickly announced that the rule was changed back and they were left in silence.

Even I was anticipating the ending of this. What would they do? I, never, in my wildest dreams, would've imagined the berry stunt. But it happened, and all around Panem people were left in shock. For the first time, two could win. Only 22 would die. I can tell, even now, as I glance up at the screen, that their love was exaggerated. Peeta stares at Katniss the same way I stare at Annie, but she only regards him with guilt and seemingly mixed feelings. She loves him, but perhaps not in the way that I love Annie. Or maybe she does and hasn't realized it yet…

It's obvious that Katniss is the reason of this Games. This idea is so utterly heinous and unexpected; it'd be abnormally convenient that she suddenly has another chance at inevitable death after the rebellion she caused. She's great with a bow, but the government doesn't want her to win. So she won't.

The Reapings end and I bury my head in my hands. There's a massive amount of competition. We all have what it takes to win. We all_ know_ what it takes to win. I'm loved, and I'm skilled, but… this is a nightmare. An unending nightmare. I don't want to kill again. I don't want more blood on my hands. But it will happen. Annie takes my hand, and we walk to my room together. I don't care about hiding. Let my mentor hate us. We curl up together, and it's like a repeat of before her Games. But this time, we're switched. This time, it's I going to death. "We should've had children. We should've gotten married. Screw the Capitol. Screw the Capitol to hell," I whisper, my voice full of hate. She puts her hand on my cheek. "We got 5 years more than we bargained for," I know, but I'm greedy. 50.. no, 80.. would be more fitting. "There's so much competition, but you can win." Annie mutters, her face innocently hopeful. I remain silent. I can win. Physically, I'm able. Mentally, though? And when you factor in a few excited, indifferent tributes…

But perhaps I may be able to survive. Be crowned victor again. But maybe the aftermath will be too much to handle. Mags' will have to die for me to win, as will the lovers from 12… "Let's not think about this until we absolutely have to. There's a week left." I sigh. "Let's try to make it the most meaningful week we can, Mrs. Odair...,"


	20. Chapter 20

**I'm just re-reading CF and MJ now so I'm trying to get details as accurate as I can =) **

Finnick POV

I kiss her neck and smirk. It's disgusting, but… I'm paid well for it. By well, I mean in.. secrets. About the Capitol, and the Districts – murder, power, treachery, lies. I realized soon after Annie had won that I didn't need the money anymore. Both of us were filthy rich, and since we're provided with free homes and food already.. I thought secrets were more suited to my tastes. At least, they'd assist me in getting down Snow's throat, eventually. I've learned.. a lot, to say the least. I only 'provide' for those in the highest power. Nobody rats me out to Snow because, after all, I'm their 'lover'. I'll come back to them, eventually… _please_.

"Anything you need to tell me?" I purr seductively. The woman gasps and I stare at my wedding ring. Annie doesn't know. She doesn't know about the secrets. She thinks I'm paid in cash; and she doesn't goad me about it, anyway. I haven't told her because it will only result in her harm. Knowing government secrets is risky enough for the most beloved man in Panem; I don't want her under fire for my decisions. The woman starts to whisper. She's trying to make her voice low and sexy, but it only makes her sound all the more ridiculous. When will these hags realize they're not attractive? Someone natural is so much more appealing.. the only way this is bearable is to drift off when they.. use me. Sometimes I imagine I'm with Annie, other times I imagine I'm back in District 4, swimming or something. Anything but this. "District 8.. District 3.. District 4.. are rebelling against us! They've already staged revolts! That Katniss girl started this! The others are following," She whispers, her voice thick with distaste.

That's all I need. I roll out of her bed, throw my clothes on and I'm out the door before she can protest. District 4 is… revolting? How was I not told? Well.. I'm one of the most famous victors to have ever lived. I'm supposedly friends with Snow, and I have many 'lovers' in the Capitol. I suppose those in charge of the rebellion would assume I'd transport top secret information to Snow. Still. It wouldn't take a genius to figure out the start of the rebellion, yet I'm still in the dark. I _will_ be a part of this rebellion. I _will_ help over-throw the Capitol. As I head back to the Tribute Building, I stop in the lobby. I need someone that will fill me in. There's only a few hours until the Chariot rides start, and I'm not wasting any time.

I spot Haymitch, talking with Chaff, a victor-tribute in the Games this year. They're enjoying liquor together, but I don't have time for a chat. Haymitch is the best choice. He's the mentor of Katniss and Peeta, and he seems like he generally dislikes the Capitol. I won't be getting in trouble for this. "Haymitch." My voice is smooth, and cold. He looks up at me curiously, a bit of surprise in his eyes. "May I talk to you?" He nods and follows me. We need to go somewhere it's absolutely positive we're not being tracked… we walk to a busy bar a few blocks away from the building and head inside. No one stops when they see us, most are too drunk to notice. This is a safe bet, and since most of the occupants are shrieking and singing drinking songs we won't be easily heard. Then again, what the Capitol can do is immeasurable..

I make my voice as low as possible. "The Rebellion. Tell me what you know." He looks suspicious and distrustful. I laugh, shortly. "I want the Capitol thrown down just as much as you do. You really think I'm spying for Snow? He forces me into prostitution. He's not my buddy," Haymitch looks surprised, but I've convinced him. "Look, you can't tell anyone.. the plan is still under the works. Nothing is permanent yet. I'll tell you more as soon as I can," He looks around warily, but goes on. "District 13 exists, as you probably know," I nod. I had always had the suspicion that the destruction was exaggerated, and I was proved right a long while ago. "They're going to try to break victors out of the Games as soon as they can; get you to District 13. It'll have to be a convenient time, and it'll have to be carefully planned. Of course, some will have to die before they can follow through. But it'll definitely be war against the Capitol by then," I don't ask for more information. My jaw literally drops open but I close it before anyone stares at me. Haymitch looks at me meaningfully. "We'll meet for more details, soon."

oooo

Annie's face is identical to mine. We're both shocked. I took her to the same bar that Haymitch and I were in only an hour earlier and broke the news. Normally, I wouldn't tell her. But how can I not? Her breathing slows and her green eyes become wide. "Oh, Finnick, I don't know.. I don't know if I'm ready.. this will change everything. Our lives. The Capitol will be at war.. nothing will be safe. And you, that Katniss girl, you'll be some of their biggest targets," Her eyes reflect worry, but also, a strange bit of longing. It's a chance. A chance that the Capitol will fall. That we will be free. It'll take war, suffering; but if that means that children will no longer be sent to death.. it's worth it.

"District 13 exists. We'll be transported there," I whisper, and I help her up before she can react. It's time to get back for the Chariots. She wants to speak to me, but I brush my hand against her lips and we walk back separately. As I walk back into the Tribute building, I'm met with a team of furious stylists. I flash them a grin, however, and they practically swoon before forgiving me. They're the exact same team I had ten years ago, and have had since; and all are unchanged apart from more obvious, pitiful plastic surgery intended to enhance their appearance. They gush over me, but it's over-played and exaggerated. They're attached to me, and however naïve they are, they know I don't deserve this. We sit in silence for an hour; I'm forced to take extra special care of myself due to my… situation, so there's next to nothing to perfect. Sparkles the color of my eyes are glued onto my body, my hair is fluffed out and styled, and intricate, colorful sea-based tattoos are drawn onto my body.

My stylist bounces in, a ridiculous, forced, cheery expression on his face. "Mr. Odair!" He's not the same stylist that dressed me for my win; he's only worked with me for a few years. I'm slightly touched – if even Capitol citizens are pained over this Games, then maybe it'll be stopped… and maybe pigs will fly. Not even those Snow lives to please can smother his cruel ambition. At least, though, if I die – I'll be remembered. Mention of my name may be forbidden publicly, but I'll always be in the heads of Capitol citizens. Maybe, one day, Snow will finally feel guilt. He'll finally realize what he's done. He'll finally realize that he's killed innocent children. _Children.._

I start to cry. Tears spill down my face, and my clenched hands grasp the sides of the cold, metal chair I'm sitting in. How can the world be like this? _How_? I put myself in the place of a parent. A sibling.

Just imagine. Watching a knife mangle the body of your child. Your sister. Your brother. Watching the light slowly fade from their eyes. Watching the terror and horror etched in their expression, the few desperate tears that stream down their suddenly childlike face. _You can do nothing_. You can only watch the television, grip it, and somehow wish you could be transported there. To take the pain for them. You have no power as they take their last strained breaths. You can only watch, as miles away, the person tied so deeply to you – the person you've raised or been raised with, taught, and cared for – the person that is one of the largest pieces of you – is reduced to _nothing_.

My nails are bloody, broken. I try to push my thoughts away. I think of Annie, the ocean, and District 4. But the emotions I've been hiding – the things I avoid thinking about – have already been unleashed.

What if I had died in the Hunger Games? I try to imagine it. To my surprise.. it's easy.

I imagine the pain swallowing me. The smell of blood. The feeling of defeat. What must it feel like? To know your life is over? To know that you will never see your family again? To know that you've failed, and to know that thousands of indifferent people are watching your murder. They don't really care, they're just happy it's not them. I can't imagine the anger and sadness that must swirl around you when you know you're dying too soon. The regret. The absolute desperation, panic and all around depression. I'm sure the mental despair overpowers the physical despair.

Nobody remembers the bloodbath tributes from the 43rd Games. Nobody remembers the tribute that came in 5th place in the 18th Games. And so on, and so on. After a while, even their families forget about them. They deal with grief by putting it away. If they don't forget their child's voice, their child's personality, and memories of their child they will slowly seep into insanity. It's like putting make up over an infected, open wound to hide it. It's injustice. A tribute's sacrifice – for entertainment – is not acknowledged. They are a statistic. They are forgotten.

How can human life be this worthless? How has society become this ruined? Everyone, in our world, has to live in fear and the majority live in poverty. How much longer will these Games go on? Hundreds of years? Thousands of years? Will someone finally realize what a mistake this is? Or will people just stop having children, eventually, just to end the suffering and pain?

I'm condemned. I will never be able to have happiness, if I even live past these Games. I will never be able to live with the one I love. If I have a child, he or she will automatically be thrown into the Games. My life, too, is worthless. This world is a never ending cycle of decay and suffering.

I punch the fancy, engraved mirror in front of me. It shatters instantly, lodging glass in my already bloody hands. Containers of make-up stashed on the shelf above it begin to fall, staining the glass that still remains intact with shreds of color. Powder and cream explodes out of tiny glass vials as they hit the steel floor. My stylist is backed up the wall, hunched in terror, his hands shaking. I forcefully throw a container of glitter across the room, and it hits a wall. It shatters and sparkles fall out and begin to dust the floor. I stomp out of the room, clothed in nothing more than a skimpy robe. My skin is stained with blood and various colors of paints and powders. My hands and feet are cut with glass, but I don't care. My actions were petty, and they weren't against my stylist. I know by the end of the day Snow will have heard what I did. He'll know it's an indirect attack against him, and that alone satisfies me.

I'm not sure what I'm doing. I wonder what would happen if I refused to go to the chariots – I suppose I'd either be shot or forcefully dragged there. Let me see them try… Tears are still streaming down my face as I make my way to the District 4 floor. My escort gapes at me as I exit the elevator. I don't attempt to hide my tears – as childish as crying may seem – as I walk to my room. I sit down on my bed and thoughts of the Hunger Games hijack my brain. My body tenses as my door opens. Capitol officials? Snow himself?

Annie. I stare at her. Her eyes display shock, but she says nothing. "Finnick." She whispers. She holds out her arms and I willingly fall into them. My tears have stopped, though my depression still lingers. "I'm sorry, Finnick, I'm so sorry." She strokes my hair for a few moments and then leaves. I want to call out to her, but I'm too emotionally exhausted to even utter her name. She goes into the bathroom and comes out quickly, bandages and a needle in her hand. She pulls out all the glass stuck in my body, and gently cleanses each sore spot afterwards. My head falls onto her chest as she works on my hands, but we're silent. She takes a thread and stitches up my wounds impressively, before tightening a bandage around each. It's painful, but my body is numb.

She leads me to the bathroom. "I'm not sure.. do I want to know what you did, Finn?" She smiles and stares at the makeup. "Whatever it was, I hope it pissed the Capitol off." I recount the story to her – I leave my thoughts and what provoked me out, but chances are she already guessed them. She laughs at my stylist's reaction. "Why, I guess I'll have to be your stylist then, Mr. Odair!" She drapes a neon towel around her head to mimic the obsessively bright stylists and pouts her lips. I slip my robe off, having no choice but to jump in the shower to clean the array of colors. Annie turns away from me, her face red, her arms crossed. "You think you'd be used to how _amazing_ I am by now." I tease. "Finnick..! Chariots are in a few hours. And I'm your stylist. Get in the shower. _Now._"

"Fine." I sulk. Strangely, my mood has improved, already. I decide, if I get out of the arena, I will dedicate a portion of my live to remembering. To paying respects to those who have died. Wherever their souls are, I hope they can sense that someone knows, and someone cares. I'll also spend my life trying to get rid of the Hunger Games, if this rebellion fails. They need justice, the victims and the families. Crying won't help them, though I know it's beyond my power not to feel sadness.

I pretend to jump in the shower, but quietly tip-toe until I'm behind Annie. She's about to turn around when I wrap my arms around her shoulders. I lift her up and she shrieks as I carry her towards the shower. "FINNICK! My clothes..!" I jump in with her and I start pressing random buttons on the small shower controller. Within two minutes, we're completely soaked and covered in a red, rosy-colored liquid soap. Lime green foam joins us and both of us slip. We start snorting, and as I try to help her up she purposely pulls me under again. "Ha!" We end up having to scrape the foam off of our bodies, and Annie tries to glare at me but fails.

As we finally jump out of the shower, we have to laugh at our difference in appearance. My skin is glowing, the bandages still perfectly secure over my stitches. Red blotches surround Annie's face and body, and her skin is pink and irritated from scrubbing off the foam. Her elegant Capitol clothes – a few layers – cling to her body and spray water all over the floor. The eye make-up her stylist must've forced on her drips down her face – like she's crying blood. I gently wipe the red from her face and she scowls at me. She glances at the time displayed on a small, silver clock above the sink. "Finnick! The Chariots are in less than an hour – how have they not come for us yet?"

We snicker as we run from the bathroom.

oooo

I try to appear cool and collected as I make my way to the Chariots. The chariots are situated in a large stable, and clean horse stalls are lined up in the back of the room. Tributes stare at me, and I pretend not to notice their steely gazes. Annie tried her best to cover up my stitches with make-up, and it worked, mainly. My stylist was too petrified to come after me, again – so he gave Annie the outfit and she was forced to make me wear it, and make sure it was perfectly set and straight.. I smile in amusement when I think of her blushes. A golden net is weaved over my private area, though it comes close to be being too revealing. It's completely plain – I probably could've made it myself, back home. My chest and legs are bare. I was given a golden trident to hold, a replica of the one that won me my Games. Diamonds, shells and seaweed wreath it. Mags is wearing a flowy, long-sleeve, green dress that covers her entire body. Shells and jewels are glued on, and small sections of brown net are draped over her shoulders. She's wearing jewelry in every place possible: brooches on her dress, bracelets, anklets, earrings, necklaces and shimmering hair-pieces. Her hair is longer, curled and dyed a bronze red, replacing the white I know; and her stylist forced her to wear high heels, hidden in the folds of her dress. She's wearing a ridiculous amount of makeup. They've desperately tried to make her look younger, and it hasn't worked. As I glance around the room, I can tell this is the strategy for many stylists. All have had the same results as Mags.

_Time to play up your.. seductive role, Finnick._ I spot a bowl of sugar cubes towards the edge of the stalls. I go to it and slip a few into my hand. I chew one gently as I look around the room. _How many of us will be alive for the break from the arena? If the plan is even successful?_ I stroll slowly towards the chariots from 1 and 2, flexing my muscles. I wink at Cashmere, and she glares at me, though I see her eyeing my outfit. Enobaria, Brutus and Gloss stare at me coldly. I make a few more rounds, flirting with tributes and stylists alike. It's easy to put up a mask when I make myself indifferent. That's when I spot her. Katniss Everdeen. Her outfit's stunning. It looks like glowing coals have been spread over her body. A big change from the aura she's been giving off lately – innocent. Girly. Weak. The chance to talk to her, the Mockingjay, is too much to resist. I saunter over to her. I move extremely close to her and shove a sugar cube in my mouth. She turns toward me and her eyes widen in surprise for a moment before the uncaring look returns. An act. Like me. "Hello, Katniss," I say, smoothly.

_Katniss Everdeen_. She was perfect: she volunteered for her sister, got an 11 in training, and was intriguing as a girl supposedly in love. Peeta did a lot to protect her in the arena; yet she didn't look for him until the announcement was made: two tributes could win. That shocked me. Countless love stories have been spread over Hunger Games'; yet none had resulted in that. Combine their 'unconditional' love with Katniss' skill, mystery and family devotion and Peeta's friendly personality, and you have the perfect love story. Ultimately I assumed Cato or Clove were going to be winners after the announcement was made, though I was absolutely positive the announcement was too good to be true. It was. Katniss and Peeta pulled the berry stunt, and now it's almost obvious that Snow wants Katniss' throat_. She's at fault. She's the reason the Games are taking place. _But I know that that's not true. Snow is the reason the Games are taking place. The boiling rebellion is the reason the Games are taking place.

Could I beat her? I looked her up and down. She had trained since she had won the Games, that much was obvious. She was amazing with a bow, but if needed, I could take her down easily. I'm stronger than her. She almost died multiple times in her Games – if Clove had decided to kill her quickly during the Feast, or if that knife hadn't missed and hit her backpack the day of the Bloodbath, among other things, she wouldn't be here. Luck was certainly on her side during the Games. She doesn't have the mindset of a killer, of a Career. She doesn't kill willingly. Unfortunately, the same cannot be said for me. I'll kill to get out of the arena. Katniss' the heart of the rebellion, and she'd be a decent ally. And I like her spirit, as everyone does. I'll do my best to protect her in the arena – she's vital to the plan, which is vital to the downfall of the Capitol. But if it comes down to the two of us, I will kill her.

"Hello, Finnick," She says, fidgeting uncomfortably. I fight the urge to laugh, and decide to milk this for all it's worth. She's discreetly angelic and pure – so unlike other victors. "Want a sugar cube?" I open my hand. "They're supposed to be for the horses, but who cares? They've got years to eat sugar cubes, whereas you and I… well, if we see something sweet, we better grab it quick." I can tell she wasn't anticipating this conversation. "No, thanks. I'd love to borrow your outfit sometime, though." I'm taken off guard by her response. I smirk slightly and lick my lips lightly. "You're absolutely terrifying me in that getup. Whatever happened to the pretty little girl dresses?" It's true. Girl on Fire is fitting for this outfit; Girl in Love has been her stylist's aim for the past few months. I'm used to seeing her in billowy dresses that completely hide any curves she may have, all in soft colors. It makes the love.. act? more believable. She looks unbeatable and powerful in this outfit. Certainly not childish and naïve. "I outgrew them." She speaks with confidence. I touch the glowing coals of her outfit. They're only slightly warm, nothing else.

She's beautiful, in an exotic kind of way. I'm curious. Has Snow made her sell her body..? I rack my brain desperately for a way to imply it without out-right asking her. Perhaps, since she has Peeta, he would not; but he could easily make it so absolutely no one spilled anything. Plus, it'd be even more exciting for customers to know they have something they shouldn't have. "It's too bad about this Quell thing. You could have made out like a bandit in the Capitol. Jewels, money, anything you wanted." I don't think she quite understands what I'm trying to say – perhaps she doesn't even know victors are used. I can tell she knows about my 'lovers', but she thinks I do it willingly. Out of choice, and for the pay. "I don't like jewels, and I have more money than I need. What do you spend all yours on, anyway, Finnick?" So Snow doesn't use her. I'm slightly relieved – she doesn't deserve it – and at the same time jealous. "Oh, I haven't dealt with anything as common as money for years," It's the truth – I don't really care if she knows it. "Then how do they pay you for the pleasure of your company?" I frown.. is it a safe idea to tell her? Then I realize she has more of a target on her head than I do on mine, and she's more trustworthy than any of the other tributes. "With secrets," I whisper, and lean in towards her. "What about you, girl on fire? Do you have any secrets worth my time?" I'm curious about the rebellion. This is my way of asking, and if I have to seduce her to get more information, I will. I want to know everything. Everything about the plans to start a war and take down Snow.

But if she knows, she keeps silent. "No, I'm an open book. Everyone seems to know my secrets before I do." She mutters. I'm disappointed; Haymitch only seems willing to provide the bare minimum. I don't care if it's safer that way. Her words are true, however. I feel pity for the girl on fire. I smile, a hint of sadness tainting it. "Unfortunately, I think that's true." Peeta's making his way towards us, a curious expression on his face, a hint of jealousy marring it, if I'm not mistaken. "Peeta is coming. Sorry you have to cancel your wedding. I know how devastating that must be for you." My words drip with sweetness. At least they were getting a wedding, and I highly doubt they love each other in that way. It takes time. Everybody knows about Katniss'.. cousin. But as I look at them, I can see a bit of affection and caring in her eyes as they talk, though she doesn't seem to notice it herself.

I reflect over my conversation with the Mockingjay. I know now she is absolutely necessary for the rebellion – she is necessary for Annie, and possibly I, to be free. As tempting as it is to go off on my own, I want to be allies with her. I can't kill her if it comes down to it. I want to protect her.. and Peeta, it seems. If the rebellion is successful, everyone will be free. Katniss is the spark, the match necessary to keep the Rebellion alive. And I will make sure that that spark does not fade.


	21. Chapter 21

Finnick POV

I wake up to a gentle prodding in my side and my eyes flutter open. "It's me," Annie says, her voice weary and tired. If I could spare her this pain, I would. She could've killed every tribute in her Games, and she still wouldn't have deserved going through this. This is breaking her – and watching her fall apart is breaking me. The Games will be so much harder; knowing that every time I suffer, she has to watch. I lunge forward and hug her, trying to be playful, like always. She laughs and pushes me away. "Oh, Finnick.. I'm sorry. The memories are worse. This is so overwhelming, and I'm not strong like you. I can't cope as easily! Which is stupid, because it's you going through this-," Her voice becomes strained, "I'd give anything to be in your place."

_No_. This beautiful woman, this woman that knows me better than anyone else, the one I cherish over everyone. If she was in the arena, I'd murder Snow and every Capitol citizen I saw. I don't know what I'm doing in the arena. The plan.. it's a long-shot. I'd love to be optimistic and say that it'll work, but it's more realistic to think like it won't. I know I have to protect Katniss, for the sake of the rebellion; but I don't know if I'd be selfless enough to give up my life for her, Mockingjay or not. Annie needs to be free, but … I haven't quite decided if I'm willing to give that over us having a long, if forever controlled, life together. If I never left the arena, Annie would go mad; but she'd be free. And alive. She'd recover, after awhile; with the gentle therapy of the ocean and faint memories. She'd never be the same, but… she'd be free.

"Mags was amazing to volunteer, but.. still." Tears start to stream down her face, and I wipe them away. I wrap my arms tightly around her, and she crumples, sobbing. I'm greedy. I'm selfish enough to have pushed Mags out of my mind. I love her. She's practically my mother. But she won't survive, and she knows it. I wish she could get out. But what's the use? She's old, and she volunteered knowing she was going to her death. She would absolutely not live with herself knowing that so many young people died while she got out of the arena; so she is not winning. She knows that I cannot protect her with my life. She was selfless enough to give up her life for the chance of my survival; for the chance of Annie and I finally having a happy life together. And my heart breaks, knowing she will die.. but it's the harsh reality, and I have to face it.

"Finnick.. what was it like, watching my Games?" She says. "I should be prepared, for whatever happens. Tell me everything." She grasps my hands and stares into my eyes. I want to break our gaze; I want to lie. I want to say that it's not that bad. But the truth is the least I owe her. "I wanted to murder anyone that touched you. If you died, I would've smashed all the T.V screens, attacked the mentor from your murderer's District, killed Snow, killed anyone that tried to restrain me, and then I probably would've jumped off from whatever Capitol building I ended up in when my mission was finished, cameras filming and people watching," Her eyes widen. I know what I said was ridiculous, excessive; but the memories, from years and years ago, are still branded fresh in my mind. That's what I had planned to do, and I would've done it, if she hadn't won her Games. "You love me too much, Mr. Odair." She says, still buried in my arms. "You own my heart; it's only expected," I say lightly, trying to coax a laugh from her. She smiles weakly, and her expression turns serious. "Finnick, don't lie to me. Did you.. help me win?" I stop dead; my heart pounding. I never thought we'd have this conversation. I never planned to tell her of my short chat with Snow; of my begging and pleading. "Before I answer," I stutter slightly, "You have to know, you could've won on your own. You were in the final two, and District 1 was hardly in any condition to beat you. But – I just couldn't take the chance. _I love you so much_. You were _so_ close to winning – I already counted on you coming home. I didn't know if the Capitol was going to stage the fight, so she won; I didn't know if Mutts were going to come after the both of you," Annie winces at the mention of the District 1 girl, and I place my hand on her cheek. "I asked Snow to let you win; because you deserved it. District 1 was already dead. Don't think you wouldn't have won without me." My voice becomes high and pleading.

I watch her, judging her reaction. I don't know what'll happen – will this tear us apart? Love can be broken by the pettiest of things. I love her, with everything I have; and I know she loves me in that way, too. I'm one of the worst people you could choose to love – all this secrecy, our relationship practically controlled by the Capitol. Our lack of freedom. And it's all because of me – because I'm Finnick Odair. If Annie had chosen anyone else, they could be in District 4 right now, taking care of their many children and never having to worry about being seen together. I'm so lucky she chose to love me; when she could've had anything and everything. Maybe this is my last strike. Maybe she's finally tired of living like this.

I'm desperately hoping that she'll give me another chance when she speaks. "I'm so incredibly lucky to have you, Finnick. You went to Snow, the devil; and had the courage to ask for my life. And, well, if you were anyone else, I'd be dead now." She smiles and relief overcomes me. We stare at each other for a second before she takes my face in her hands and kisses me. It's a deep, meaningful kiss; and even though we've had hundreds, the spark never fades. I'm so fortunate to have found someone like this; someone who has turned into my everything.

oooo

Today's the first day of training. I make my way from our floor to the Gym. I practically had to pry Annie from me, as unhappy as being without her made me, as well. As soon as I arrive on the bottom floor, I look around the room. Only half of the tributes are here; and I doubt many more will come. Why pretend like they can learn anything new now; and why pretend like they still have some sort of skill to show off? Most of us aren't as fit as we were back then, with the rare exception of the District 1, District 2, Johanna, Katniss, Peeta, and I. The trainers allow us into the Gym fairly early; and we're given a short explanation and a list of the stations, though all of us are familiar with this, already.

As I glance around the gym, a strong wave of nostalgia hits me. I thought I'd never see this Gym again; and being here feels wrong. In the 10 years since I've been here, everything has been replaced; but the set-up is the same. It brings memories back. I can recall almost perfectly what my training was like when I was 14. I was still in shock, hardly believing that I was going into the Hunger Games. I remember sizing up my opponents, the worry that hit me when I saw what fierce competition I had. I can still generate the faces of most of my opponents. My now long-dead opponents. I stuck to myself, not alerting anyone of my talent with a trident. My favorite station was the net-weaving station, and my frequent stops there probably helped me win my Games. No one approached me for an alliance, and even the instructors at the stations I went to treated me gently. Everyone assumed that I, being the youngest player, would be the first dead. Nobody expected me to make it past the Bloodbath, let alone win. But I proved them wrong.

I have nothing to hide now, and I immediately make my way towards the weapons. I pick up a beautiful golden trident, its shiny base engraved with pearls and shells. I savagely throw it at a dummy, from 15 feet away. The thud it makes upon impact can be heard throughout the Gym, and I chose to ignore the looks of fear and jealousy I get. I don't want to kill anyone, but… it's a necessity. It's something that must be done, for the Rebellion, Annie, and I. After I become tired of being a brute, I head away to the net-weaving station. The instructor here is the same one I had in my Games ten years ago; and he slaps me fondly on the back. "Finnick – you've certainly grown up! You're a pro; you don't need to be here!" He says jokingly. I grin weakly and get to weaving. I'm good at nets, and I manage to produce fairly intricate samples. My hands are nimble and more skilled then they were all those years ago. I'm relieved; I'm in better shape than I was the first time around. Smarter, stronger, and I have more drive. More motivation to get home. I'm lucky; winning, if I must, will be a piece of cake.

I weave nets out of vine, root, and I even take a try at grass, in case my options are extremely limited. I have no idea what the arena will be like, but hopefully it's something I can work with. Water. Forest. Things that offer supplies and shelter. I'm hoping I at least get a trident and find some sort of stream, but the Gamemakers are unpredictable. For all I know, we'll be in a frozen wasteland with only chunks of ice and spiked maces to kill each other with – lovely to imagine, right?

Eventually I get tired of weaving nets and wave good-bye to the instructor. I look around the Gym, for something to do; and I spot Katniss. She's at the knot-tying station, looking like the knot she's tying is a massive challenge. I smirk and walk over quietly, trying to surprise her. I sneak behind her back, and, because I need all the humor I can get, wrap my arms over her and finish the knot she's tying. She's clearly inexperienced; and it takes me only a few seconds to finish the knot. It's a less complicated version of weaving; and it's really quite easy, if you practice enough. She frowns at me, and in an attempt to be humorous, I tie a rope into a noose, and I wrap it around my neck. She could either be disturbed or amused by this; and she seems to take to the second. We part silently, and I'm left, again, to look around the room.

I want Katniss for an ally, but I'm not used to having to ask for things – as self-centered as it sounds, I get what I want. I've never proposed an alliance – it'd help if I had someone reasonable to work with, but Katniss seems slightly… stubborn. However, she's the Mockingjay, and she's evenly matched talent-wise to me. I want Mags as an ally, as well. I couldn't live with myself if I left her alone to die – I'd like to give her some comfort in her last moments, and no doubt she'll be comforting _me_ when it's her time. I look for Mags, and spot her at the archery station.

I walk over, and her face immediately lights up. "Finnick, darling!" She squeaks. I grin and she stares at me proudly. "I raised an amazing young man." She says, her eyes shining. She's my second mother – and after… after my family's death, she did raise me. I hug her, gently; and her happy smile quickly turns to a frown. "I wish I could live to see my grandchildren." She says. I blush, though I'm sure she's guessed that if Annie and I could have children without penalty, we would've, by now. She winks and we both practice shooting arrows for awhile – neither of us are particularly good, and we can't even begin to measure up to the Mockingjay. But at least I know the feel of a bow and have some amount of experience.

Lunch comes and goes; and Mags and I stick together. We head to the knife throwing station, which I'm fair at; swords, which I can't fight with for my life, and eventually we meet Katniss again, at the fishing station. I introduce Mags to Katniss, who seems somewhat confused by what Mags is saying – her words are slightly unintelligible, simply because of her age; but I've known her so long that I've gotten used to it. We make hooks together, a skill Mags far surpasses Katniss and I in. We split up; and I look around – searching for something to do. Training is something that you have to wait out; it's boring, and drags on endlessly. I'm about to head to the camouflage station when I hear gasps. I spin around, and there's Katniss; shooting arrows at stuffed birds a trainer throws into the air. She's flawless, and I'm envious; though she's probably as incompetent with a trident as I am with a bow. But this show of skill leaves most of the victors speechless, and now getting her as my ally won't be as simple as it once was.

Training finally ends, and we're free to go back to our floors. I immediately collapse into Annie's bed as soon as I get back. "Finnick!" She says, plopping herself down beside me in a hurry. "Are you okay?" She whispers, stroking my hair, feeling my forehead. "It's just..," I pause. "This is exhausting. It's hell. This was torture enough the first time around, now it's unbearable. I just want to get into the arena already, and I just want all of this to be over," I say. We sit together quietly, and she gently strokes my cheek. "I don't know what I'd do without you," I murmur. She nods, a silent agreement; and kisses my temple gently.

"Tell me everything about your Games," She says, suddenly. "What?" I say, shocked by the abruptness of the question. "Finnick... you need to," She says, her voice tender. I want to be reluctant, I want to stay silent; but then I realize it doesn't matter. I trust her with everything – and this is no different. I start, and as soon as I do, it all comes pouring out. "I was 14, and as soon as I was reaped I knew it was a death sentence. No one under the age of 15 had ever won the Games; at least not for a couple of decades. I'm amazing with a trident, sure; but the Careers were massive and skilled at everything. My family and I said our last good-byes; and I remember my father crying.. though he was about as emotionless as they come. As we sped by the ocean on the train, I knew it was my last time seeing it. My heart was broken by the injustice of it all. My district partner was a Career. She turned her nose up at me and ignored me from the start. My heart sank when I watched the Reaping; I was the youngest tribute and far smaller than everyone else. I wasn't giving up, but I wasn't arrogant enough to think I even had a chance of winning. I made no alliances, and everyone ignored me. I pretended to have no skill to receive a low score in Training; and I kept myself under the radar. During the Bloodbath, I made off with a knife and a few bags of supplies. Soon enough I learned that the sponsors loved me. I got my trident, I got whatever I needed. If it weren't for them, if it weren't for my looks.. I'd be dead. I killed six people – and I didn't care. I did it without hesitation." By the time I finish I'm crying, light, silent tears. Annie hugs me tightly – she never really knew what my Games was like. She knew tidbits, but nothing more. "I'm so sorry," She says, her voice fierce. An enormous weight is lifted off of my chest, and I realize she's the first person I've ever discussed my Games with. She's the first person to ever know the 65th Hunger Games from a first-hand view. She's the first person I've ever trusted enough to tell.

"I love you," I say, my voice firm. "You're the first person I've ever told… I've never even talked about the Games with Mags," I say. "And the last," I add. "Finnick, everyday I wonder why I'm blessed enough to have you, when you could've had anyone...," She says, her voice distant. "_What_ – Annie, you're _perfect_. Trust me, you can't build this sort of relationship with anyone," I tease. She raises her eyebrows. "Oh, so, you're saying that I'm one of a kind?" She says. I smile. "_Exactly_."


End file.
